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THE TO^ AND HIS LEAGUE. 

’ ' BySYLVANUSCOBBJr., 

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THE Sea and shore Series-No. 1 8. 


ISSUED Monthly. laon 

Subscription Price, §3.oo Per Year. layo. 

CopyHghledy 1890 , by Street <£ Smith. 

Entered at the Post Office, New York, as Second-Class Matter. 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION ; 

OR, 

THE TORY AND HIS LEAGUE. 


A Revolutionary Story of Land and Sea. 


SYLVANUS COBB, Jr., 


AUTHOR OF 

<‘THE GOLDEN EAGLE,” “ GUNMAKER OF MOSCOW,” “BEN 
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THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


CHAPTER I. 

THE HYING PATRIOT AND HIS SON. 

It was about nine o’clock in the morning: of the 
19th of April, 1775. Not far from the old North 
Bridge, in Concord, Mass., stood an humble dwell- 
ing, the home of one of the noblest hearted of our 
provincial fathers. In the small front room that 
looked out upon the road stood a wide bed, and 
upon it lay the wasted form of an old man, whose 
snowy hair and wrinkled brow betokened that more 
years than are generally allotted to man had made 
him old. His eye was as bright as the eagle’s, and 
as he lay there now, upon the verge of the grave, 
those orbs, through which shine the life-beams of 
the soul, were gleaming and sparkling with an un- 
wonted fire, and the thin, pale lips were tightly 
compressed, as though the heart had feelings he 
dared not utter. 

By the side of the bed, and holding the old man 
by the wrist, sat a middle-aged man, upon whose 
countenance reposed that look of professional grav- 
ity that at once betokens the ‘‘doctor.” 

At the foot of the bed stood a young man who had 


6 


THE iA]S’KEE CHAMPION. 


just seen his twenty-fourth year. He was tall and 
stout in his build, though the fairness and sym- 
metry of his proportions did not give at once to the 
eye of the beholder a true idea of the physical 
strength which he possessed. His features were 
beautifully regular, or, more properly speaking, 
they were nobly so — with large, dark eyes, a full, 
open brow, a nose slightly inclined to the Eoman 
cast, and lips that seemed capable of expressing, in 
their silence, every emotion of the soul. The young 
man was dressed in a garb that bore some slight 
marks of the ‘"ocean style,’^ and the rich bronze 
upon his face evinced pretty plainly that he had not 
been long from the salt water. He had a powder- 
horn hung over his shoulder, and his right hand 
grasped a heavy musket, upon which he was lean- 
ing. The hand that held the weapon was trembling 
violently, and even the short raven curls that clus- 
tered about his brow and temples, shook as though 
a fierce wind were sweeping through them, while 
his features were evidently worked upon by power- 
ful and conflicting emotions. 

Such was Walter Nixon, and that old man upon 
the bed was his father. Walter had been brought 
up mostly at sea. When quite young he had enter- 
tained an irresistible desire to follow the sailor's 
fortune, and his father procured him a situation on 
board a good ship belonging to Mr. Samuel Davis, a 
wealthy merchant of Boston, and as we find him 
now, he had been returned but about three weeks 
from a long voyage, and during that time he had 
been in constant attendance upon his sick parent. 

“Hark!’’ uttered the old man, as the heavy tramp 
of feet sounded upon his ear. “Hark! Heard you 
that noise, doctor?'' 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


7 


‘‘Yes, I did,’^ returned the doctor. 

“And what is it?’’ asked Nixon, almost raising 
himself upon his elbow. “Walter, go to the door, 
and see.” 

The young man quickly obeyed, and when he re- 
turned he looked pale and excited ; but there was no 
fear in that pallor. 

“What is it, Walter?” 

“Father,” answered the young man, his eye burn- 
ing with an intense fire as he spoke; “the British 
troops have collected at the old bridge, and our 
men are marching to dislodge them. The hireling 
soldiers have broken open the store-house and de- 
stroyed our flour ; they have set the court-house on 
fire, and have cut down the liberty-pole on the hill.” 

“Cut down the liberty-pole!” exclaimed the old 
man, fairly starting up in his bed. “Great God! 
and has it come to this! Walter, I helped plant that 
liberty-pole — I helped build that store-house, and I 
must lay inactive here while a foreign foe thus 
tramples upon us. Who leads the provincials, my 
boy?” 

“Major Buttrick leads them, but Colonel Robin- 
son is with him, and so is Captain Davis. They are 
marching against the regulars with undaunted firm- 
ness.” 

“May a just God strengthen the hands of my 
countrymen, and make their eyes sure,” ejaculated 
Nixon, as he folded his thin hands together, and 
with painful difficulty raised them above his head. 
“Walter,” he continued, “that is a faithful old 
musket you hold in your hand ; let it speak for me. 
Go, join your countrymen. There should be a Nixon 
in the battle-field when our country calls for her 
sons to strike the invader. Go, Walter,” 


8 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


The young man hesitated, and gazed anxiously 
upon his father. 

^‘Do you hesitate, my boy?’’ asked Nixon, while 
a quick shade passed over his features. 

‘‘But suppose I should not see you again alive?” 
said Walter, in trembling accents. “Oh, 1 must not 
leave my old father here to die without his son to 
close his eyes! I am all that is left you on earth.” 

“Stop not for me, Walter,” and the shade that 
had rested upon the old man’s face ^ve place to a 
grateful look as he spoke. “I shall live till you re- 
turn.” 

The youth turned an anxious look upon the doc- 
tor. The invalid at once caught the movement, and 
he comprehended its meaning. 

“Doctor,” said he, “tell my boy that I shall live till 
he returns.” 

“Ah,” uttered the man of medicine, shaking his 
head with a dubious expression, “I cannot* give him 
such an assurance, for I fear that I might deceive 
him. There is nothing to be gained by hiding the 
truth. You are liable to dropoff at any moment; 
and when your death stroke comes we shall have 
but little warning of its approach.” 

“I know I am \erynear my end,” returned the 
old man, in a tone of calm resignation; “for I have 
lived longer now than it generally pleases God to let 
his children remain on earth, and I am willing to 
go ; but I shall not die quite yet. Hark ! Hear you 
that drum and fife? Are they not ours, Walter?” 

“Yes, father. That music belongs to the company 
from Acton.” 

“I thought so. Hear it shriek out upon the air. 
My boy, if what the messenger that passed here 
this morning told us be true, then eight of our conn- 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


9 


trymen lay dead upon the greensward of Lexington 
— they fell by British bullets ! Fly, fly to join your 
bold townsmen. I will live, Walter, till you return. 
Go ; and when you come back I will bless you ; and 
if you fall. I’ll bless my patriot boy in heaven. I 
shall not die so long as there is a British soldier in 
Concord — I feel it — I know it.” 

Walter Nixon sprang to his bedside, pressed his 
lips upon the wrinkled brow of his father, uttered 
forth a short prayer, and then grasping his musket 
more firmly in his hand, he hurried from the house 
just as the little band of patriots was passing. 

“1 must have room in your front ranks, major,” 
he exclaimed, as he came up to the head of the 
body. 

“You shall, my noble young man,” heartily re- 
sponded Buttrick. “Fall in where it suits you best.” 

The provincials were formed in double file, and 
Walter took his place immediately behind the musi- 
cians. At length the British red-coats were in sight 
on the west side of the river ; but as the American 
militia approached they marched across the bridge, 
and faced about upon the east side, where they 
cornmenced tearing up the planks. Buttrick, seeing 
this, rushed forward, and his gallant band followed 
him ; and as they came near the bridge the British 
commenced firing. The first volley took no effect, 
but at the second, Captain Davis fell, and his head 
rested upon the foot of Walter Nixon. The young 
man stooped down, and lifting the head of the gal- 
lant captain in his hands, he laid it upon a green 
sod, and then sprang forward upon the bridge, and 
in a moment more old Nixon’s musket was leveled 
upon the enemy. 


10 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


‘‘Fire, fellow soldiers! fire!’’ vehemently shouted 
Major Buttrick, as he saw the gallant Davis fall. 

Beneath the first fire of the Americans one British 
soldier bit the dust in death, and Walter Nixon 
knew ’twas his bullet that did the deed. The enemy 
fied before the onset of the provincials, and joined 
the main body of the regulars in the center of the 
town ; and ere long afterward the whole royal de- 
tachment had commenced their disastrous and 
never-to-be-forgotten retreat toward Boston. 

Old Nathan Nixon heard the rattling of the mus- 
kets at the bridge, and it was with difficulty that the 
doctor could keep him down on his bed. The old 
patriot’s muscles swelled and worked like the 
sinews of a trip-hammer, and his bright eye gleamed 
more brightly than ever. 

“Doctor,” he said, “I would to God I were in the 
place of those men who fell this morning at Lexing- 
ton. They told me that poor Jonathan Harrington 
fell with a British bullet in his breast, and that he 
died while attempting to crawl up to his own door- 
stone.” 

“Yes,” returned the doctor, as he dashed a tear 
from his eye, “his was a cruel fate. His wife sat at 
her wundow and saw him when he fell — then saw 
him start up, and she saw the blood streaming from 
his breast. She rushed out to meet him, but she was 
only in time to see him die !” 

The old man closed his eyes, and for several mo- 
ments he remained silent. 

“Doctor,” he said at length, “these eight men who 
fell at Lexington this morning are the seeds from 
whence shall spring a glorious republican harvest. 
I know that the great provincial heart will afford it 
a rich soil in which to grow. England has made her 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


11 


own bed; now^let her beware of the thunders she 
has awakened about her resting place. 

‘‘I believe you speak truly/^ returned the doctor, 
in a thougtful mood. 

‘‘Speak truly? I know I do. I know the true re- 
publican hearts that beat in. Massachusetts, and I 
know, too, that the other colonies will not flinch be- 
fore British steel.’’ 

At this moment Walter rushed into the house. 
His face was flushed with excitement, and his 
bosom swelled with a proud emotion. 

“What of the British, my boy? — what of the Brit- 
ish?” quickly asked the old man. 

“They have fled like a flock of sheep, and are now 
on their way to Boston,” returned Walter. 

“Fled! They’ve fled!” fairly shouted Nixon, as 
he raised himself upon his elbow. “The regulars 
have fled before our raw militia ! Then I can die 
content. Are our countrymen pursuing them, Wal- 
ter?” 

‘‘Yes; the minute men are pouring in from all 
quarters. The intelligence has spread through all 
the country like wild-fire, and American muskets are 
gleaming behind nearly every wall and bush near 
the road.” 

“Good — good. God be praised! Walter, come 
here.” 

The old patriot’s voice sank to a deep, meaning 
tone, and his son approached the bedside. He set 
the still warm musket against the post, and then 
took his father’s hand in his own. 

“My boy, has that old musket been of service in 
your hands?” 

“Yes, father. At the first fire by our men only 
one of the British fell and ’twas your musket that 


12 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


sent forth the messenger of death. I know it, for I 
aimed at his heart, and I saw him when he 
dropped.’^ 

A bright light passed over the old man’s features, 
and he grasped his son more tightly by the hand. 

‘‘Walter,” he said, “go to my closet and bring me 
the sword that hangs there.” 

The young man obeyed, and when he returned he 
bore in his hand the desired weapon. It was evi- 
dently an old sword, but age had not impaired it, 
either in value or appearance. The scabbard was of 
black leather, heavily guarded and mounted with 
silver, and the hilt was also of ^silver. 

“Let me take it,” said Nixon. 

The weapon was handed to him, and he tried to 
draw the blade ; but his strength was not equal to 
the task, and he handed it back. 

“Draw the blade,” he said, “for I am too far gone 
to handle it now.” 

Walter unsheathed the weapon, and as it flashed 
in the light, the old man put forth his hand and 
grasped it by the hilt. The blade was long and 
heavy, and the edges were as sharp as ever. 

“My son,” the old man continued, “this weapon 
was my father’s. He gave it to me when he was on 
his death-bed, and made me promise to keep it 
bright, and never to use it save when honor or dire 
necessity called for it. I have kept my promise 
faithfully, though I have not often had occasion to 
use the sword. Now, Walter^ I give it into your 
keeping, and I feel sure that I trust it to one who 
will never tarnish its brightness by a dishonorable 
deed.” 

“Your confldence, dear father, shall never be 
abused,” said the young man, as he took the sword. 


I 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


13 


believe you, Walter. And now the horizon of 
our country’s affairs betokens that a strife is at 
hand which must either end in American* independ- 
ence, or in the lasting curse of England’s iron rule. 
It depends upon America’s young sons to decide 
what shall be the fate of coming generations on 
our native soil. Promise me, my child, that when 
that struggle comes, your sword shall not rest till 
our land is free, or till your arm is stiffened in 
death.” 

'‘I do promise it,” exclaimed the young man, as 
he raised liis eyes toward heaven; ‘‘and as I hope 
for salvation hereafter I will be true to that prom- 
ise.” 

“Amen!” responded the old man, and as he spoke 
he stretched forth his hand, and laid it upon the 
weapon. “Walter,” he continued, “never think of 
exchanging that sword for a better, for a better is 
not to be found in the country. It is old, and it has 
seen service, and its worth has been proved. That 
steel is as fine as a diamond’s point, and is as subtle 
as the finest temper of Damascus can make it. 
Kneel down, my boy, kneel down.” 

Walter sank upon his knees at his father’s bed- 
side, and the old man placed his hand upon his 
head. 

“God bless you, my boy, and give you strength to 
do your duty; and when you lie at the point of 
death, as I do now, may you be able to look back 
upon the past, and call up in your mind the memory 
of your deeds, without one blush of shame, or one 
single regret. Bless you, bless you, my noble boy.” 

The old man gazed fondly upon his son, but he 
seemed too weak to speak. The excitement of the 
forenoon had kept his spirits up, but now the physi- 


14 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


cal man was fast giving way. His eyes grew heavy, 
and the lids began to settle. 

“Hush!” he uttered, with a startling accent. 
“Heard you not that distant noise?” 

“Yes, yes, father; it is the report of our minute- 
men’s muskets and rifles. The retreating enemy 
are falling by the wayside. ” 

“Hark! Again! again! Hear them, hear them, 
Walter! Oh, America — my country! God protect 
thee. My boy, where are you?” 

“Here — here, father,” softly returned the youth, 
as he bent over his dying parent. 

“Lay your hand upon my brow. There. Remem- 
ber your country, my son, and remember your fa- 
ther. Ha ! hear our muskets ! How they speak out 
for freedom ! God grant that such may ever be the 
tones that shall thunder in the ears of all tyrants!” 

As the old patriot ceased speaking he raised him- 
seli convulsively upon his elbow, and lifted his hand 
on high. His lips parted, but no sound came forth. 
A bright spark gleamed for an instant in either eye ; 
but it passed away like the flash of a meteor, and 
the aged head sank back upon the pillow. Walter 
Nixon bent lower over his father’s form, and he 
placed his ear close to the thin lips, but he heard no 
breath. He pressed his hand upon the heart, but its 
pulsations had ceased. 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


15 


CHAPTER 11. 

PLAN FOR A CAPTURE — THE BOY PAIRIOT. 

The spring and summer of 1775 had passed away, 
and a cool autumn had well nigh opened into the 
frosts of winter. The people of New England had 
now fairly awakened to a full sense of their situa- 
tion, and they had almost made up their minds to 
bid open defiance to the royal authority without 
longer hesitation, and declare themselves a free and 
independent people. Some men, to be sure, with 
prophetic vision, had foretold the event as in- 
evitable, but few dared to give the thought a home 
in their bosoms. When, finally, the colonies as a 
body politic took up arms against the mother coun- 
try, it was because they had been most cruelly 
forced to the step ; but when once that step was 
taken, England found that she had awakened a 
young lion that could never again be tamed into 
submission to despotism. 

The assembly had taken up the subject of au- 
thorizing private individuals to fit out vessels on 
their own account against the English, and an act 
on the subject was passed, making provision for the 
equipment of privateers, simply placing them under 
certain wholespme restrictions, and making ar- 
rangements for the fair distribution of prizes. 

Many enterprising seamen, who had been thrown 
out of employment by that most infamous of all 
British acts, the Boston Port Bill, and by the various 
blockades, had long been engaged in the privateer- 
ing business. 


16 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


It was near the close of the day. The small pud- 
dles in the streets of Newbury port were crusted over 
with ice, and the air was chilly and piercing. Upon 
one of the wharves at the northeastern extremity of 
the town stood three young men, all of them power- 
ful looking fellows, who were habited in seamen’s 
garbs, with rough pea-jackets buttoned close up to 
their chins. They were gazing intently toward the 
point where the passage between Plum Island and 
the main land opens to the Atlantic, and there, in 
full sight, with all her sails set, was a brig standing 
in, with the red flag of England at her peak. 

‘'She’s a beauty, Nixon,” said the elder of the 
three men. 

“She is, truly,” returned the man thus addressed, 
who was none other than Walter Nixon, a person 
already in the reader’s acquaintance. “She is a 
handsome craft, Baker, and with a little alteration 
would make a fast sailer, and a craft easily han- 
dled.” 

“I know not that she needs altering. She must be 
a good sailer as she is.” 

“She is doubtless a good sailer,” returned Nixon, 
as he watched the handsome brig ; “but there are 
more in Boston harbor as good as she is. We must 
have a vessel that the British cannot beat. Don’t 
you see? Her rigging has the old English stiffness 
to it. Her masts put me in mind of an old school- 
mistress that once superintended my youthful ideas. 
All day long she used to sit bolt upright in her seat 
like a gun-deck stanchion, as though to bend a point 
would have sprung her back. I would have those 
masts rake more by eight degrees, at least. And 
then look at her bowsprit; it looks as though they 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


17 


were afraid of wetting the foot of the jib. I^d gam- 
mon that down just about ten degrees lower.’’ 

‘‘I tell you what, Baker,” said he who had not be- 
fore spoken, ‘'that would make a difference in the 
craft, and no mistake.” 

“Yes, it would,” returned Baker. “And now, 
captain,” he continued, turning to Nixon, “what is 
the next move?” 

“That depends upon how long the brig is going to 
remain off the harbor.” 

“Oh, I have found that out.” ^ 

“And what is it?” asked Nixon, with much ear- 
nestness. 

“She has. orders to lay off and on here for a week 
yet. The British found out that we had a lot of 
stores here, and it seems they are determined that 
we shall not get them out, so the brig is going to 
blockade us.” 

“Then our way is clear enough,” said Nixon, in a 
confident tone. “We must capture her. Our crew 
are all ready, and we must find some work for them 
to do.” 

Baker and Cummings both shook their heads, and 
looked dubiously. 

“Bather a ticklish job,” ventured the latter. 

“So I should think,” responded Baker. 

“But yet not so hard as you imagine,” said Nixon. 
“The strong, who depend upon their physical 
strength alone, are often more easily overcome than 
the weak who depend upon their cunning. Those 
fellows have no more cunning than an ostrich, and 
their strength isn’t much to boast of.” 

“And yet you must admit, Nixon, that brig is no 
mere plaything. I was looking at her with my 
glass this forenoon, and those twelve guns she car- 


18 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


ries are eighteen-pounders. I can’t see hotv we are 
to get hold of her.” 

‘‘Neither do I see it yet myself,” said Nixon, in 
reply; “but this much I do see. Baker; that for 
those who are determined there is most generally a 
way. We have Yankee hearts and Yankee hands, 
and we will not stop short of the accomplishment of 
our purpose. That brig has taken my fancy, and I 
must have her, and I do not believe that my men 
will shrink from the undertaking. I know them to 
be brave fellows.” 

The eyes of both Baker and Cummings kindled 
with enthusiastic fire, and grasping their young 
commander by the hand, they swore to follow him 
even to the death. 

“Now when do you propose to commence opera- 
tions?” asked Baker, as the party turned leisurely 
up the wharf. 

“Perhaps to-morrow night,” replied Nixon. “I 
shall not sleep to-night until I have devised some 
means of capturing the Englishman. We shall 
meet again in the morning, and then I will open to 
you my plans.” 

At the head of the wharf the three companions 
separated. Baker and Cummings starting toward 
the center of the town, while Nixon kept along the 
river road to the eastward. 

Neither of them noticed, as they turned at the 
head of the pier, that their conversation had been 
all overhead ; but after they had got out of sight, a 
boy moved stealthily away from behind a pile of 
boards, and letting himself down into a small skiff 
that lay thumping against the wharf fenders he 
sculled across the river. 

Walter Nixon reached the ^mall inn where he had 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


19 


been stopping, and after supper he went to his 
room, where he sat for a long time and pondered 
over the subject he had in hand. For two hours he 
sat in a deep study, but he could not bring his mind 
to bear upon any plan for the capture of the brig 
that seemed at all feasible. He knew that he might 
take her by main force ; but then that would en- 
danger too many of his men, and he could not afford 
to lose his brave fellows when it might as well be 
avoided. Half a dozen embryo projects had flitted 
across his mind, but they had been relinquished, and 
he now found himself without an idea. He arose to 
his feet and began to pace the floor. No fortunate 
plan, however, came to aid him, and he had almost 
resolved to go to bed and see if his dreams would 
not help him, when he was aroused from his ner- 
vous thought by a low rap at the door. 

‘‘Come in,’’ said he, at the same time placing his 
hand instinctively in the pocket where he carried a 
loaded pistol. 

It was a boy that entered. He could not have 
been over fourteen years of age, and he was rather 
small, even at that. His features were of a regular, 
comely order, beautiful. in their chiselings, and his 
eyes were bright and piercing, giving to his face a 
look of intelligence seldom met with in one of his 
years. 

“Do you seek me?” asked Nixon, as he regarded 
the boy with marked interest. 

“Is this Captain Nixon?” the boy asked in return, 
with a voice as clear and soft as the notes of a lin- 
net. 

“My name is Nixon.” 

The young visitor gazed about him, and then 
drew nearer to Walter. 


20 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


'‘You were down on the wharf this afternoon/’ he 
said. 

Nixon started, but in a moment he thought how 
it might have been for any one to have seen him as 
he came up, and he replied in the affirmative. 

The boy gazed about him again, and then he cast 
his eyes upon the floor. 

"Have you -any errand for me?” asked Nixon, as 
he noticed that his youthful visitor seemed unde- 
cided as to what course he should pursue. 

The boy started and looked anxiously up into Wal- 
ter’s face. 

"I have come here of my own accord, sir,” he said 
at length, "and perhaps I can be of service to you; 
at least I hope I can, for I have run no little risk in 
coming.” 

"And in what way do you propose to assist me?” 
inquired Nixon, not a little puzzled to imagine what 
the boy could know about hm. 

"You wish to take the English brig that ” 

" S’death, boy! how learned you that?” inter- 
rupted Walter, as he laid his hand with a nervous 
grasp upon the boy’s arm. "Who told you that? 
None of my men can have betrayed me?” 

"You need not be afraid,” said the visitor, with- 
out moving a muscle of his handsome countenance. 
"I overheard your conversation on the wharf this 
afternoon, and if your intentions be such as I think 
they are, I have come to assist you. ” 

There was something in the boy’s manner, and in 
the sound of his voice, that seemed a guarantee for 
his honesty. At any rate, Nixon resolved to trust 
him for the present. 

"Well,my lad,” he said, "I do intend to take that 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


21 


brig, and if I succeed, she shall hereafter sail for 
the good of the American colonies.^’ 

“Have you thought of any plan yet?’ 

“No.” 

“She is a well-armed and well-manned vessel, 
and not easily to be captured by anything we have 
in this harbor.” 

“You seem to know her well, boy?” 

“Yes, sir; I have been on board.” 

“On board? When?” 

“Last night.” 

“And how did you do that? With whom did you 
go?” asked Nixon, as he regarded his visitor with 
more curiosity than before. 

“It matters not how I went, nor with whom I 
went; it is enough that I have been there.” 

“Then they must have been Tories with whom 
you went?” 

The rich blood mounted to the cheeks and tem- 
ples of the lad, and his nether lip trembled with a 
strong emotion. For a moment his lids drooped, 
but he soon regained his wonted composure, and 
while a latent spark burned in his eye, he said : 

“Of course they were. Tories, and though one of 
them is a kin of mine, yet I feel not with him. God 
knows that I love my country too well for that.” 

He wiped a single tear from his long lashes as he 
closed, and as he now gazed into Nixon’s face the 
latter felt that he could trust him. God could not 
have made such a face as that for the seat of du- 
plicity. Walter caught the boy by the hand, and 
with a beaming face he uttered : 

“God bless you, my boy; and may you be spared 
to live long for the country we both love. What is 
your name?” 


22 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


^‘Gideon Ryan.’’ 

“Ryan?” repeated Walter, in a thoughtful mood. 
“There is an old Tory by that 

“Say no more, sir,” quickly interrupted the boy, 
while a painful look passed over her face. “The 
man to whom you allude is my father. Now you 
know all. I am not to blame that he is a Tory, 
though the thought is saddening. But now to the 
brig. I must be expeditious, for I have to recross 
the river to-night, and no one must know where I 
have been. This is the first opportunity that I have 
had to do the colonists a service, and I was deter- 
mined not to lose it ; and in this I do a double 
work.” 

“There are few, my young lad, who will have 
Mone a greater service than yourself,” said Walter, 
who now began to feel a warm affection for the 
boy. “You say you have been on board the brig. 
Did you ascertain how many men she had?” 

“Yes, sir. She has fifty-eight, all told.” 

“That’s good, if there are no more.” 

“That is her full complement, sir, I am sure, for 
I heard the captain say so.” 

“Now to your plan,” said Nixon, as he set a chair 
for the boy, and took one himself. 

“I have no plan, exactly,” returned Gideon; “but 
I can give you a piece of intelligence that will at 
once enable you to form a plan to suit yourself. But 
first, you must give me your solemn promise that 
you will not betray me — that you will not mention 
to a living soul how you gained the intelligence.” 

“The pledge is yours, my noble boy. I will not 
lisp it.” 

“And you will not betray my father? for were 
the people of Newburyport to know the part he is 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


23 


acting, I fear they would tear our house down about 
our ears.’^ 

‘‘You may trust me. I will not mention your 
father’s name.’’ 

“Then, sir, arrangements have been made for a 
small party of Tories to go off to the brig to-morrow 
night. There is a sort of Tory league here, at the 
head of which stands my father, and they have 
been collecting intelligence with regard to the mili- 
tary stores between here and Salem^ and also with 
regard to the dispositon of the people and the plans 
of the provincials, all of which they are to make 
known to the captain of the brig. A Tory spy has 
gone to Salem, another is operating in Danvers, 
and one has gone as far as Lynn, and they are to re- 
turn to-morrow evening. There is no particular 
time set for them to board the brig, but, at any 
rate, they are not to go before midnight. Every- 
thing has been arranged particularly. At the first 
hail from the brig the Tories were to fire three pis- 
tols, very slightly loaded, in quick succession to the 
southward. At the next hail they were to give the 
countersign, which is ‘Buckingham,’ and then they 
were to go on board without further ceremony. If 
your men have spirit and determination, I should 
think you might take the Englishman without much 
trouble. The brig will heave to at midnight just 
around the head of Plum Island, and as I am con- 
fident that the Tories will not be prepared to set out 
before one o’clock, you will have plenty of time.” 

Walter Nixon’s face was lighted up by a joyous 
look, and he started from his chair and grasped the 
boy by the hand. 

“Gideon Ryan,” he uttered, “I know that you are 
not deceiving me. I shall trust you, and you shall 


24 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


be rewarded for your information. Here, take this 
purse, and at some future ” 

“Put up your money, sir,” interrupted the boy, 
while a crimson flush passed over his countenance. 
“I do not sell my love to my country. Every son 
and daughter of America owe their strength and 
will to the welfare of the land. If I have enaoled you 
to strike an effective blow for freedom, I shall have 
reward enough. But I must leave you now, and all 
I hope is, that y^3u may succeed.” 

“Stop, stop,” exclaimed Nixon, as the boy turned 
to go. “I must know where I can And you. I 
would know more of you.” 

“It can matter little to you where I live,” re- 
turned Gideon. “If we meet again it will be by ac- 
cident, or when I have more intelligence to commu- 
nicate, and you are by to receive it.” 

“I should think one like you would love the deck 
of a clipper privateer. I would give you a comfort- 
able berth if you would but go with me.” 

“Oh, how I should like such a life! How my 
heart would bound could I but join in your warfare ; 
but I cannot — I have a charge I must not forsake. 
Trust me, sir, you will And all about the brig as I 
have stated. God grant that you may be successful, 
and I beg that you will remember me as one who 
has done all in his power for the good of his coun- 
try. Farewell. ” 

Walter Nixon sprang forward, but the boy had 
glided from the room, and his feet were heard pat- 
tering upon the stairs. 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


25 


CHAPTER HI. 

THE OLD BRICK-MAKER— PEAKS FOR THE ATTACK. 

Early the next morning, Walter Nixon was up 
and stirring. As soon as he had swallowed an 
early breakfast he set off in quest of his two officers, 
whom he soon found, and taking them to a private 
place, where their conversation could not be heard, 
he explained to them all that had transpired since 
they parted the evening before. Both the mates 
were favorably startled at the revelation, and for 
several moments they pondered in silence upon 
what they had heard. 

‘ 'Captain Nixon, said Baker, with a half -doubt- 
ful expression upon his countenance, "may not this 
be some trap to catch us? I don’t like this Tory part 
of the affair.” 

"A trap!” almost indignantly uttered Nixon, 
forgetting for the moment that neither of his 
officers had seen the boy-messenger. "No, I will 
stake my very life on the integrity of him who 
brought me the intelligence. A trap 1 Why, you 
must be beside yourself. Baker. If it were a trap, 
I am thinking that they who set it would first 
get their fingers in it. You know that the dastard 
Tories would not dare to molest us, and as for the 
crew of that brig, I believe we outnumber them. 
Let me once get my foot on the Englishman’s deck, 
and their craft is mine.” 

"And we’ll join you,” cried both the mates. 

"I knew you would. And now we must be about 
our preparations. You go and hunt up the men and 


26 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


have them in readiness to attend us as soon as it is 
dark.'^^ 

Baker and Cummings promised to have all in 
readiness as requested, and with light hearts they 
went about their duty, while their young com- 
mander, after having buttoned his coat snugly 
about him to keep out the cold blast, started off 
toward the river. 

Nixon easily procured a boat, but he declined the 
assistance, of any one to help him row across, pre- 
ferring to go by himself. As soon as he reached the 
opposite shore he hauled the boat up out of the way 
of the tide, and then took his way farther up the 
river toward a deep, wide basin, where there were a 
number of brick-yards. In this basin lay four large 
scows, which were used for bringing clay and wood 
down the river, and also for carrying bricks farther 
down toward the island when vessels could not 
handily get up. The man who owned the yards 
was a short, thick-set, rough-looking old fellow, 
and he looked at the new-comer with anything but 
an inviting cast of countenance. 

^'Do you own these scows, sir?’^ asked Walter, as 
he approached the owner of the yards. 

‘Wes, s’pose I do,’’ grunted the old fellow. 

“Would you be willing to lend one of them to- 
night.^” continued Nixon, nothing daunted. 

“And never get it agin, I s’pose.” 

“It shall be returned faithfully in the morning, 
sir.” 

“Oh, yes, of course. That’s what folks allers says 
as intends to run away. I’d like to know what in 
thunder you want to go scouting in one o’ them 
great heavy things for?” 

“I’ll tell you what I’ll do, my good man.” 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


27 


“Don’t good man me. I ain’t any better than 
other folks. You can’t tickle me out of my scows in 
that way.” 

“Just hear my proposition,” said Walter, with a 
smile, for he saw that beneath all the old man’s 
roughness there was a rich vein of real goodness ; 
“I want to use one of your scows to-night, and if 
you will let me have it I will place in your hands 
. any sum that you will say your boat is worth. Is 
not that fair?” 

“Anything’s fair enough nowadays,” returned 
the old man, with a little softer expression in his 
tone. 

“Then what is one of your scows worth — say that 
one with the short mast stepped forward there?” 

“They ain’t worth nothin’, any on ’em. They 
ain’t of no more use than so rhany big rocks. No-, 
body’s buildin’ houses now ’cept the British, an’ I’d 
see them dod-rotted afore I’d make ’em a brick. I 
can’t git a cargo into Boston since the infernal red- 
coats have squatted there on our native sile, nor I 
can’t even run a cargo out o’ the port now, just for 
that sneakin’ puppy of a Britisher that’s layin’ off 
an’ on, out in the offin’. Blast ’em, I say.” 

Walter saw at once with whom he had to deal, 
and he knew that the brick-maker could be trusted. 

“If you will lend me one of your scows to-night,” 
he said, “that English brig shall lie in the port to- 
morrow, with the Yankee flag flying at her peak.” 

“Eh! What!” uttered the old man, starting into 
new life. “Take that brig with one o’ my scows?” 

“Yes, sir; I have sixty-two as brave fellows as 
ever swung a cutlass or cocked a pistol, and if I can 
get something large enough to carry us all out to- 


28 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


gether, I’ll make a Yankee privateer of that brig 
before she’s a week older.” 

‘"Well, as for that matter, there’s room enough in 
one o’ them scows for two hundred men to dance a 
hornpipe; but what does that signify? Them Brit- 
ish guns ’d blow you out o’ the water afore you 
could get within pistol shot of ’em.” ’ 

‘T’ve got that matter all arranged, and I know I 
can get alongside without being fired at. I shall . 
risk my head, at any rate ; but I don’t want to en- 
danger your property, so 1 will deposit in your 
hands such a sum as a new scow is worth, and then 
if it gets riddled you won’t be a loser.” 

“Do you really, actually, ’pon honor, mean that 
you are goin’ to take that brig?” 

“Do I look like a man that would tell a false- 
hood?” 

“No — bake me in a brick-kiln if you do.” 

“Then you will accede to my proposal?” 

“No, I won’t! But you shall have the scow, 
though — all of ’em if you want ; and if you can just 
git that cussed Britisher, you may blow the whole 
lot on ’em into inch splinters, and I’ll go to work 
and make new ones.” 

Walter could not but smile at the old man’s quaint 
enthusiasm, though he reverenced the noble spirit 
of self-sacrifice that prompted it. 

“You’ll have the wind abaft the beam to-night,” 
said the old man, as Nixon asked about the manage- 
ment of the scow. “You see this wind is nor’ Avest, 
an’ it’ll hold so; an’ you’ll have the tide in your fa- 
vor, too. I’ve run this old thing clean away to 
Salem with a load of bricks when the wind was fair. 
Oh, she’ll handle as easy as old Tilley.” 

The brick-maker procured a lot of old mats and 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


29 


gunny-bags, which he placed in the scow, and he 
promised that he would be on hand to help her off 
when she was wanted, and, moreover, that he would 
be secret about what was in the wind. 

As soon as all was thus satisfactorily arranged, 
Nixon took his way back to his boat, and recrossed 
the river, and shortly afterward he joined his offi- 
cers, where he learned that the men were all ready 
the moment they were wanted. In turn he ex- 
plained the result of his own mission. 

‘'But you don’t expect you are going to get along- 
side with that old scow, do you?” uttered Baker. 

“Why, they’ll be sure to fire into us the first 
thing,” added Cummings. 

“No, no, I have thought of all that,” returned 
Nixon. “A scow is the only thing we can go in. A 
regular sail-vessel, large enough to carry us all, 
would be sure to excite a suspicion that we might 
not lull, but with the old scow I am confident we 
shall pass.” 

The two officers saw how the matter stood, and 
they were satisfied that the arrangement was the 
best that could have been made, when their com- 
mander assured them that he would have an excuse 
ready for appearing to the Englishman in such a 
dubious shape. 

The day passed slowly away, and at length the 
dusky shades of night settled down over the town. 
There was no moon, and a light fog that had swept 
from the sea and hung itself overhead, almost shut 
out the stars. It was not uncommonly dark, but yet 
so dark that objects could not be distinguished at 
any distance over a rod or two. At nine o’clock the 
men were collected on the bank of the river at the 
western extremity of the village, and they evinced 


30 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


by their manners, and by the tones of their whis- 
pers, that they were eap’er for the onset. 

Nixon took twelve of his men with him. and enter- 
ing a boat that lay near at hand, he crossed over to 
the brick-yards. The old bripk-maker was in wait- 
ing, and it took but- a short time to get the old scow 
out into the stream. The mats and gunny -bags were 
all on board, and the kind owner had thoroughly 
cleansed out the bottom of the Craft, so that the men 
might lie down without soiling themselves. 

It was a little past eleven o’clock when they 
reached the little island at the mouth of the river, 
and here Nixon resolved to stop until nearly mid- 
night ; so the bows were allowed to run up among 
the shrubbery that skirted the sandy shore, and as 
soon as she was thus safely grounded, Walter went 
around among the men to assure himself that every- 
thing was as it should be. After he was satisfied on 
this point, he called Baker and Cummings to his 
side, and crossed over to the eastern side of the 
island. 

“Ha!” exclaimed Cummings, who got the first 
look seaward, “there she is, waiting for us.” 

Nixon and Baker looked in the direction pointed 
out, and just over the head of Plum Island they 
saw a red light which they at once knew must be- 
long to the brig. They watched it for nearly ten 
minutes, and from the gradual motion which it 
made to the southward and eastward they knew 
that the brig was laying to. 

At half past eleven the men were all in the scow 
again, and once more she was put off. They now 
had the wind nearly astern, and the old square sail 
lugged them along after the most approved fashion. 

“Now, my brave boys,” feaid Walter, as he stood 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


31 


up in the stern, must be preparing. I have 

selected the five men who are to help me manage 
our craft, and the remainder of you must lie down 
snugly in the bottom of the scow and cover your 
selves over with the mats and gunny-bags. Be sure 
and lay so that you can leap to your feet in an in- 
stant, and as soon as you feel the scow grate against 
the side of the brig, gather yourselves up for the 
spring; but don’t move to your feet until I give the 
word.” 

Slowly the old scow poked along through the 
wateiv and at length the head of the island was 
rounded. Here the wind was lighter upon the low 
sail, and though they now crept along only at a 
snail’s pace, yet they were in time. 

‘‘Run forward, Cummings, and see if you can 
make out her hull, for I can’t tell whether she’s got 
her light at the fore or main.” 

The second mate was gone about five minutes. 

“Yes,” he replied, as he came aft; “I can make 
her out plainly. There, you can see her now from 
here. That light is at her main truck, and she is 
laying to on the larboard tack with her courses 
hauled up, and her main-topsail aback, heading, as 
near as I can judge, about nor’-nor’-east.” 

“Stand by, now, to grasp hold of her chains,” said 
Nixon, in a low tone. “I am going to run down 
upon her larboard bow and then keep my lulf and 
fall along upon her weather side. Stand by the 
sheets, one of you.” 

“Boat ahoy!” at this moment came in a sharp, 
quick tone from the brig. 

“Let go your pistols,” uttered Nixon, and in 
another moment three pistols, one after the other, 
were fired to the southward. 


32 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


‘‘Boat ahoy!” again came from the brig. 

“Buckingham!” shouted Nixon. 

“Ay, ay,” said the same voice from the brig. 

In a moment, however, there was a perceptible 
commotion on the deck of the Englishman; loud 
voices were heard, and in a short time half a dozen 
lanterns flashed over the side. 

“Hallo, there! keep off with that lumbering 
thing,” yelled a voice. “Who are you?” 

“Lower the sail,” ordered Walter, to one of his 
men, and then turning toward the brig, he said, in 
a voice perfectly calm and collected : 

“Do you not know us? Is not the signal of recog- 
nition correct?” 

“Your signal is correct enough, but what are you 
doing out here with such a floating battery as that? 
Keep off, or I’ll Are into you.” 

As the sail was lowered the low sides of the scow 
caught none of the wind that came over the island, 
and she hardly moved through the water, though 
there was a little headway still setting her on. 

“I’m afraid we are dished,” whispered Baker. 
“If they Are into us they’ll sink us as sure as fate.” 

“Never fear,” returned Walter; “they won’t Are. 

“Hallo,” he continued, addressing the officer of 
the brig. 

“Well, what is it?” 

“We had to come in this thing, or else not come at 
all. The rebels suspected our movements and they 
stole our boats. I have something important from 
Salem to communicate, so I determined to come at 
all hazards.” 

“That isn’t Ryan’s voice,” cried the Englishman. 
“Where’s he? None of your infernal Yankee fool- 
ing, now.” 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


33 


For a moment Nixon hesitated. He had not an- 
ticipated this dilemma, but his wits soon came to 
his assistance. 

‘‘Ryan is here, but he went to Salem yesterday, 
and last night he rode nearly the whole of the night 
on horseback in the cold damp air, and he has g:ot 
such a hoarseness that he can hardly speak at all ; 
but he has the papers all ready, with such intelli- 
gence as he could gain all written out.’’ 

For some moments there appeared to be a consul- 
tation going on upon the forecastle of the brig, and 
the Americans could see by the occasional flashes of 
the lights through the port-holes that her men were 
hurrying up from below, and it was soon apparent 
that nearly the whole of the crew were upon deck. 
This was rather unfortunate, for it betokened that 
there must be a pretty equal contest, and our hero 
had no particular desire to lose too many of his men. 

“I’m afraid they won’t let us board,” whispered 
Cummings. 

“Then we’ll board without their letting,” calmly 
returned Nixon. “We can run under her bows so 
that they can’t bring but one gun to bear upon us, 
at any rate.” 

“Come alongside,” cried the captain of the brig. 

The hearts of the Americans leaped with excited 
joy as they heard the summons, and deep-drawn, 
heavy breaths were heard from beneath the mats 
and bags. The scow was not now more than half 
her own length from the brig, and she had got 
worked around so that she was heading directly 
along under the other’s weather beam. A couple of 
sweeps were got out, and in a few moments the 
scow’s head grated against the Englishman’s bend. 
The bags and mats began to move, and a slight 


34 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


scratching noise was perceptible, somewhat such as 
a tiger would make while gathering itself for a leap. 
Four of the men who were standing up caught hold 
of the fore chains, and walked their lumbersome 
craft smoothly alongside. 

“What you got in them bags? Where’s old Ryan? 
Who are you? Death and fu 

The Englishman smelt a rat, but his ejaculation 
was cut short by the stentorian voice of the young 
American commander. 

“Now, my men! Leap! Board! Clear the way 
as you go, and make room for those behind!” 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


35 


CHAPTER IV, 

THE CONFLICT— THE TIMELY RECRUIT. 

Like so many lions sprang the American seamen 
from their hiding-places, and quick as the leap of 
the chamois they went pouring in over the low sides 
of the brig. The English were thunderstruck, and 
though many of them were armed; yet they fell 
back into the lee gangway like a pack of frightened 
sheep. It seemed to them as though the Americans 
were being vomited forth from the bosom of the 
ocean, and they knew not the character or disposi- 
tion of the foe. It seems the idea of some sort of a 
‘‘Yankee trick” had faintly dawned upon their 
minds, but they had not entertained the least idea 
that the old scow contained such a formidable 
enemy. 

“Who are you? What do you want?” uttered the 
English captain, who had backed to the main fife- 
rail, and stood there trembling like an aspen. 

“We are Americans, and we want this brig,” re- 
turned Walter, “so the sooner you surrender the bet- 
ter.” 

“What! surrender one of his majesty’s brigs to a 
pack of Yankee pirates? . Never!” 

“Then we must force you to it; but God knows 
who are the pirates. Have you not murdered our 
citizens? Have you not destroyed our stores, burned 
our houses, trampled down our grain, shut up our 
ports, and beggared our innocent children? Lay 
down your sword, sir, and order your men to lay 
down their weapons also. If you do that your lives 
shall be spared.” 


36 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


^‘And what if I do not?’^ said the Englishman, as 
he began to recover his scattered courage, seeing the 
youthful appearance of the American commander. 

‘‘Then you must fight for your brig.^’ 

“Let into ’em!’’ whispered Cummings. “Don’t let 
’em get prepared, for we can take ’em now at a van- 
tage.” 

“Forward, my men!” shouted Walter. “Strike 
down everything that opposes you, but strike none 
who lay down their arms. Pistols ! Draw them !” 

As the young man spoke he dashed forward 
toward the fife-rail. The English captain sprang 
upon his guard and drew a pistol, but quick as 
thought it was dashed from his hand, and in an in- 
stant a keen sword-point was gleaming at his breast. 

“If you raise your sword an inch, my weapon 
shall pierce you through and through!” uttered 
Walter. “Lay it down. Drop it!” 

For an instant the Englishman was undecided as 
to what course it was best to pursue. 

“Are you going to lay down your sword?” asked 
Nixon, in a stern, threatening tone. 

The Englishman’s nether lip trembled — his hand 
unloosed its hold, and the sword, with its pom- 
melled head of the proud British lion, fell rattling 
upon the deck. 

“You are a wise man,” said Walter; and as he 
spoke he seized the end of the weather main-bunt- 
line, and taking three tight turns around the cap- 
tain’s body and arms, he belayed it to the fife-rail. 

As soon as this was accomplished, Nixon sprang 
to the gangway, but he found that his arm was not 
needed. A few stout Britons fought desperately, but 
they fought against men who sought to throw the 
yoke of tyranny from their shoulders, and grad- 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


37 


ually, after four of their number had fallen, they 
fell back toward the quarter-deck, and threw down 
their arms. 

The bri^ was carried, and the Americans now 
stood upon their own deck. 

The lanterns, by the light of which the battle had 
been fought, still stood safely upon the hatches, 
and Nixon bade some of his men take three of them. 

“Where is the master-at-arms?’^ asked he. 

“I am that officer,” answered an Englishman, as 
he stepped forward from his companions. 

“Then go below with my men and show them 
where the irons are.” 

In a short time the men returned loaded with 
hand and foot irons, and the Americans commenced 
placing them upon their prisoners, and ere long the 
ruffied Englishmen were laid away in the scuppers 
to await further orders. 

Upon examination it was found that the Ameri- 
cans had lost two men, and that three more were 
slightly wounded, while the English had six killed, 
besides some dozen or so who had been cut upon the 
hands and arms. 

Just as the deck had been cleared up, one of the 
men who stood near the weather bow, reported a 
boat just under the fore-foot. 

“Boat ahoy!” shouted Walter, as he sprang for- 
ward upon the forecastle. 

Three pistol shots were returned from the boat. 

“Boat ahoy I” 

“Buckingham!” returned the boat. 

“Then Buckingham yourselves back into the 
port!” shouted Walter, while his men laughed at 
the peculiar fix of the old Tories. 


38 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


‘^What’s that you say?^^ asked a voice from the 
approaching boat, in tones of utter astonishment. 

^ ‘Start your old Tory carcasses back from whence 
you came. You can’t come on board here. Man the 
main braces, my boys, and fill away the main-top- 
sail. Quick ! Look out there in the boat, or you’ll 
be run down.” 

“Let’s fire into ’em,” said the excited Cummings. 

“No, no,” quickly returned Walter; “I would not 
do that on any account. Tories though they be, yet 
they have unintentionally done us a favor, for it was 
through their means that we got on board the brig 
so easily.” 

“Hallo! Brig ahoy! I want to come on board! 
I’ve got news for you,” shouted from the boat, in 
frantic accents. 

“Then keep it.” 

“But I’m Silas Ryan!” 

“Then may the ocean swallow you for an unmiti- 
gated old scoundrel, and be hanged to you.” 

“Hallo-o-o-o ” 

But the old Tory cried out in vain. The brig had 
gathered a good headway, and in a few moments 
the boat was left bobbing up and down in her wake, 
and the last faint “o-o-o-o” died away upon the 
breeze, as the Tory crew were lost in the darkness. 

“Hope you won’t be offended at the way we treat 
the company you invited to visit you,” remarked 
Nixon, as he approached the spot where the English 
captain sat upon a shot box. 

“Then Ryan did not betray us?” said the captain, 
seeming to take no notice of Walter’s sarcastic re- 
mark. 

“No, sir. He’s too fond of English gold for that.” 

“Then how learned you that signal?” 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


39 


^‘Dreamed part of it, and guessed the other part. 
We Yankees are great for guessing.^’ 

The Englishman bit his lips and looked offended. 

‘‘What do you intend to do with the brig?’^ he at 
length asked. 

“Mean to put a few Yankee improvements on her, 
and then use her for a chopping-knife.’’ 

“Eh? What?” 

“Use her to chop up your king’s transports and 
store-ships with, I mean.” 

“How will you have her run. Captain Nixon?” 
asked Baker, coming up at this moment. 

Walter left the side, of the crestfallen Englishman 
and went to the wheel, and after calculating a mo- 
ment, he said : 

“You may get the courses on her, Mr. Baker, and 
we’ll stand on this tack until we can make a straight 
leg into the port. See that all the rigging is ready 
and clear for running.” 

The wind still held from the northward and west- 
ward, and the brig was not long in making - a point 
from whence she could easily stand into the harbor, 
and long before daylight her anchors were dropped 
in the mud of the Merrimac River, her sails snugly 
furled, and all made ready for warping her up to 
one of the wharves in the morning. 

When at length the bright sun arose, sending its 
beams to glance at the frost and glittering icicles, 
the few people who were stirring were not a little 
startled at seeing the English brig at anchor off the 
town, but in a moment more they noticed that the 
proud flag of England was only at. half-mast, and 
above it, gallantly waving in the breeze, floated the 
flag of the colonies, with its pure white field, its pine 


40 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


tree of bright green, and its significant motto — ‘^Ap- 
peal to Heaven!’^ 

A boat was let down from the brig’s side, and as 
it started for the shore, another boat — a light, fiat 
wherry — w'as seen to shoot out from the cove 
wherein stood old Jacob Maynard’s brick-yards. It 
was pulled by a single man, and it came skipping 
over the water as though it had a score or two of 
double-action propellers at its stern. Both boats 
reached the wharf at the same time. Walter Nixon 
leaped out of the first, and Jacob Maynard from the 
second. The old man sprang eagerly forward, and 
grasping the young hero by the hand, he exclaimed : 

“By the great butt end of creation, you ought to 
be made a governor for this. Got her, didn’t ye?” 

“Yes, yes, my kind old friend,” returned Walter, 
with a smile; “I’ve got her, and there she lies; but 
I’m afraid I’ve lost your scow. When we boarded 
the brig she fell off, and I lost her in the dark ; but 
you sha’n’t ” 

“Hooray!” yelled the old brick-maker, at the 
same time waving his hat frantically in the air. 
“I’m glad the old scow’s gone, for now old Jake 
Maynard can say that he did something toward 
taking the prize, can’t he?” 

“Yes, you can, most assuredly,” returned Wal- 
ter; “for if it hadn’t been for your help, that brig 
wouldn’t have been in here now.” 

The old man dashed his hat upon the ground and 
fairly danced with delight, but he was not alone in 
his quaint and wild demonstrations of joy, for many 
a sober citizen laid aside the dignity of age^ and be- 
came gleesome and merry. 

Walter had come on shore to seek the owner of 
the dock-yard, and he had no difficulty in finding 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


41 


him, for he had been among the first to come down 
to the wharf. Arrangements were soon made for 
having the prize hauled upon the ways, and then 
the young commander went off to the brig, taking 
the old brick-maker with him. For some time after 
Jacob Maynard placed his feet upon the deck of the 
prize he gazed about him in an absorbed silence. 
Gradually a strong light' broke over his sunburned 
countenance, and he shoved both hands deep down 
into the pockets of his pea-jacket, as if to secure an 
idea that had struck him. 

‘‘Cap’n Nixon, said he, slowly approaching the 
spot where the young man stood, ‘‘I’ve spent a good 
deal of my life on the old salt pond, an’ now I should 
just like to try it once more. I hain’t got a chick 
nor child. in the world, nor my wife hain’t, nother. 
Hain’t you got roorii here for one more? I do want 
to strike the tarnal old king one blow afore they lay 
this old hulk away in the ground.” 

“Do you mean that you want to join our crew?” 
asked Walter, as his eyes beamed with pleasure, for 
the old man’s frame betrayed a gathering of muscle 
and sinew that might not be easily overcome. 

“I do just want to do that thing, an’ if you’ll say 
the word, you shall find that the British won’t find 
in me a boy to play with. Eh, old rough-an’-tum- 
ble?” 

This last sentence was directed to the English cap- 
tain, who had given utterance to a low growl at 
Maynard’s questionable allusion to the British king. 

“You shall be one of us, with all my heart,” ex- 
claimed Walter, as he grasped the old man’s hand. 
“We lost two brave fellows last night, and unless 
your looks belie you, you will make up for both.” 

“Then I’m a regular Yankee man-o’-wars-man. ” 


42 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


“A pirate/’ growled the English captain. 

‘^Shut up, old lop-tail. None o’ your impudence 
to a Yankee freeman.” 

As Maynard spoke he placed his great brawny 
fist close to the Englishman’s nose, and snapped his 
teeth as though he was calculating whether to eat 
him or not. The prisoner seemed to think it prudent 
to hold his tongue, and old J ake left him, to take a 
look at the rest of the ^‘clipped birds,” his prisoners. 

The Yankee crew were not a little pleased at the 
acquisition which had thus been made to their 
number, for they saw in the short,, massive frame, 
and in the Herculean shoulders of the brick-maker 
a man who would be valuable ; and then, too, the 
very spirit with which he came, recommended him to 
their respect. 

The brig’s launch was got out, the kedge anchor 
put on board, a sufficient quantity of cable coiled 
away in her, and then she put off up the river, and 
let go the kedge a few rods above a point opposite to 
the dock where the brig was to be hauled in. The 
vessel was soon walked up to the spot, then a line 
was sent ashore, and having hoisted the anchor, 
she was warped into the desired place. 

Just after the brig had been hauled into the dock, 
Walter noticed a party of six men come down upon 
the bank on the opposite side of the river, where 
they stood for some time and gazed at the Yankee’s 
prize. Our hero could see their earnest gesticula- 
tions, and even at that distance he could not fail to 
mark the wonder and surprise they exhibited. 

He knew it was the old Tory and his league, and 
as they turned away and disappeared among the 
shrubbery, the young American champion felt in 


THE YANKEE CHAIVIPION. 


43 


his heart a bitterness of loathing that ripe tyranny 
could never have caused. 

CHAPTER Y. 

A THRILLING INCIDENT— THE OLD TORY^S DAUGHTER. 

The brig progressed rapidly toward her comple- 
tion, and Walter found no lack of help. Even the 
little boys had the Promethean spark of republican- 
ism glowing in their bosoms, and in many things 
^they were of much service. The girls, too — bright- 
eyed, buxom lasses — endeavored to outvie each other 
in their assistance to the Yankee crew. 

It was the third day after the brig had been 
hauled into the dock. The men were engaged upon 
a portion of the work that did not require Walter's 
immediate attendance, and he resolved to take a 
gun and cross the river in search of game. Perhaps 
he hoped that he might come across the boy- patriot, 
for said boy had occupied a large share of his 
thoughts, since the night on which first he met him. 
It was quite early when he sat out, and having 
reached the opposite side of the river, he stopped a 
moment to get the exact bearing of the sun with re- 
gard to the town, so that he might not get his head 
turned, in winding around through the woods, and 
then he struck off into the bushes. 

In two hours he had shot half a dozen partridges 
and quite a number of woodcocks, and as he was 
considering whether to return or try his luck further, 
he observed a place through the trees where there 
seemed to be some sort of an opening. He brought 
his gun to his shoulder and started for the spot, but 
he had not gone more than a dozen steps when the 
sound of music fell upon his ear. At first it sounded 


44 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


like a soft flute, but as he came nearer he became 
convinced that it was a human voice. For a few mo- 
ments he stopped to listen. It was a low, plaintive 
tune, poured out in soft, liquid notes, but the words 
were undistinguishable. 

After standing for a minute or two to hearken, 
Walter Nixon moved carefully forward. The open- 
ing he had discovered was a moss covered spot 
where a huge rock of granite, ledge-like and shelv- 
ing, arose from the earth. Upon a mossy bank, 
where the warm rays' of the sun shone in, sat the 
songstress. She was weaving a wreath of ever- 
green, the vines of which crept along at her feet, 
and as she plied h r Angers she continued to sing. 
She did not notice the approach of the intruder, and 
consequently he had a good opportunity to watch 
her movements. 

Walter thought he had never seen a female so 
beautiful, and he stood and gazed like one entranced. 
She might have seen the suns of seventeen summers, 
but they had left her with a light, delicate frame, 
graceful and airy in its proportions, and beautiful in 
its moldings. Her features were as soft and musi- 
cal in their harmony as were the notes she was utter- 
ing, and their pencilings were as flne and graceful 
as the pure white rose. Her hair, which was of sunny 
hue, though not curling into ringlets, was floating 
over her snow-white shoulders in wavy tresses like 
the sinuosities of a babbling brooklet. One little foot 
peeped out beneath her dress, and Walter could see 
that the shoe which covered it was well-worn and 
unfit for that cool season of the year. As she sat thus 
there was an undefinable air of placid sadness per- 
vading her whole form. It was not sorrow, nor was 
it exactly melancholy, but it seemed a sort of calm, 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


45 


tranquil resignation, as though even the very atmos- 
phere about her were a heaven of calm thought in 
which she dwelt. 

The young man gazed in rapt admiration upon the 
scene, and he had half inclined his body to step for- 
ward, when his eyes fell upon a thing that sent the 
blood leaping back to his heart. Just at the edge of 
the mossy bank, and not more than half a yard from 
where rested the tiny foot, lay a huge rattlesnake, 
which had evidently crawled up there. The deadly 
reptile was stretched along upon the ground like a 
bending stick, and his burning eyes were fixed upon 
the face of the girl. In a moment more the warb- 
ling maiden moved her hand out, and picked up a 
piece of evergreen. There was a quick, shrill rattle. 
She started and listened for an instant, but the rat- 
tle ceased, and she went on with her work. Perhaps 
she thought Twas a locust, and yet Twas strange 
she did not see it. 

The snake had gathered himself into a compact 
fold, and its head was raised and thrown back. 
Walter would have sprung forward, but he dared 
not, for should the serpent be startled he might 
strike his fangs into the fiesh of the girl ere a step 
could be taken to arrest him. Higher and still 
higher, and farther back, moved the head of the 
snake, and the fanged jaw raised. Walter knew 
that he was preparing to strike his never-failing 
blow, and an agony, such as he had never known 
before, pierced his soul. The fairy weaver had al- 
most wove in the vine she had last plucked, and she 
would soon reach out her hand for another. Wal- 
ter dared not even cry out to warn the girl of her 
danger, for he knew that the reptile would not now 
unfold himself without striking. 


46 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


The agony was but for a moment, for the young 
man started to a sense of the duty that devolved 
upon him. He raised his musket carefully, and si- 
lently cocked it, and took a deliberate aim. Its re- 
port rang out upon the breeze, and a sharp, piercing 
shriek echoed it. "Quicker than thought Walter 
dropped the smoking gun and sprang forward. The 
girl had started up and stood trembling like an as- 
pen, and an ashy pallor had overspread her fair 
features. She had dropped her half -woven wreath, 
and it lay upon the mangled form of the writhing 
snake. In a moment our hero saw that the maiden 
had not been harmed, and clasping his hands to- 
gether, he fervently uttered : 

‘‘Thank God ! You are safe And as he spoke, 
his almost powerless hand fell upon the maiden’s 
shoulder. 

“Safe?” she tremblingly murmured, starting, and 
shrinking away from the touch of the intruder. 

“Yes, yes, safe! I have shot him. See where his 
mangled body lays. Oh, great God ! in another mo- 
ment he would have fastened his poisonous, deadly 
fangs into your flesh.” 

The girl uttered a low cry and sank down upon 
the mossy shelf of the rock. 

“What is it, sir?” she asked, in a half hushed, 
fearful whisper. “Who would have harmed poor 
Helen Ryan?” 

Walter was startled with a new intelligence. He 
saw now the likeness between the beautiful creature 
before him and his boy-friend, and he at once com- 
prehended the meaning of some strange words that 
the boy had dropped. 

“Look here, at my feet, fair maiden,” returned 
Walter, as he pointed to where the snake lay. “That 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


47 


serpent which now writhes there in throes of death, 
was coiled up and preparing to spring upon you. In 
another instant he would have struck the death- 
blow. I knew you could not have seen him, but did 
you not hear his rattle?’" 

The girl bent her head, and placed her hand upon 
her white brow. 

‘T did hear a shrill rattle, but I did not see him.” 
see not how you could have avoided it,” said 
Walter, in a tone of astonishment. ^^Once you 
placed your hand within an inch of his head when 
you picked a vine of evergreen.” 

- The girl shuddered, and a strange look of sadness 
passed over her features. 

‘^Ah, kind sir,” she uttered, in a low, tuneful 
voice, as she once more arose to her feet; ‘^the eyes 
that should give me warning of danger are sight- 
less! Poor Helen knows but little of the world 
which you enjoy.” 

Walter Nixon gazed into the upturned face of 
Helen Ryan, and as the lids, which had before 
drooped till the long lashes almost touched the cheek, 
were now raised, he saw that she was blind. An 
indescribable sensation of sympathy took possession 
of his soul, and his heart beat with a tender emotion. 
The admiration he had felt for the beautiful object 
was softened, and instead of being lessened by a 
knowledge of her misfortune, it was rather in- 
creased. 

‘^Shall I not walk with you to your home?” he 
asked. 

^‘As you please, sir. It is nob far from here,” re- 
turned the girl, who had in a great measure re- 
covered her self-possession. 


48 


THE TANKEE CHAMPION. 


“Here, let me take your hand, and I will lead you. 
You do not distrust me?” 

“No, no— oh, no,” she quickly returned. “I have 
learned to know people by their voices, and I am 
not afraid of harm from you.” 

“This is the path, is it not, here to the southward?” 

“Yes. There is but one that leads to this place.” 

And as she spoke, she put forth her small white 
hand, and Walter took it in his own. It did not 
tremble, but it rested there as though the soul that 
directed it knew that it was guarded by one who 
could not be dishonorable. 

“Have you been always blind?” asked Walter, as 
he led the way through the woodland path. 

“Almost from an infant,” returned Helen. 

“Then you remember but little of the visible 
scenes of earth?” 

“One object alone is fixed upon my mind through 
the medium of sight,” the fair girl said, while a 
tear gathered in her sightless eyes. “I can remem- 
ber one sweet face that smiled upon me in infancy, 
and even now I can see the light blue eyes and 
kindly beaming featu^’es that then I beheld. Some 
may tell me that it is an image of my mind alone ; 
but, oh, I know it cannot be. I would not have that 
face blotted from my memory for worlds.” 

“It was your mother?” said Walter, in a tone of 
reverential awe. 

“Yes,” returned the girl. She caught the tones of 
her deliverer’s voice, and a look of effulgept grati- 
tude overspread her features. 

For some little distance the two walked on in si- 
lence. At length Walter asked : 

“Have you not a brother?” 

.“Yes.” 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


49 


‘^Is his name Gideon?’^ 

returned Helen, with a wondering expres- 
sion. “Do you know him?^’ 

“I have seen him.’^ 

“Where? Where?’^ 

Walter hesitated. He knew not how far it would 
do to expose the brother ; but while he yet remained 
silent he was relieved by an exclamation from the 
maiden herself. 

“Ah, now I know you. You are Captain Walter 
Nixon.^’ 

“You have a keen perception.’^ 

“My brother described you to me.” 

“And what description could he have given, by 
means of which you can recognize me?” 

“Oh,” quickly replied the girl, with artless grace, 
“he told me you were a noble man, and that you 
were kind and good, and he said, too, that you were 
handsome.” 

Walter Nixon blushed a crimson blush, and his 
hand trembled, but in a moment he recovered him- 
self, and he could not but experience a sensation of 
grateful pleasure at the unsought compliment. 

“And how know you that I answer to the descrip- 
tion your brother gave you?” asked the young man. 

“Because I can see it just as he told it to me.” 

“You see it?” 

“Yes, and I am seldom deceived. Those who trust 
things as they appear to the eye are often mistaken, 
but the language that speaks to my soul seldom 
tells me falsely. Such a voice as yours could not 
come from other than a good heart.” 

“But all that does not tell you that I am hand- 
some,” said Walter, with a smile. 

“Yes, it does, for the face which constantly re- 


50 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


ceives its impressions from a noble heart cannot be 
otherwise than beautiful.’^ 

‘‘Ah, lady, I know many a noble hearted, kind, 
generous man who is far from beautiful.’^ 

“You speak of what the eye alone calls beautiful 
— that which the world praises for its comeliness — 
but the true beauty of nature is that which appeals 
to our tender sympathies — that which the soul loves 
to dwell upon. I have heard people say, how beau- 
tiful are the mountains and the forests, and yet me- 
thinks, they are rough and ill-shaped, but it is their 
nobleness of nature that makes them beautiful.’^ 

“And yet,’’ said Walter, “after all, that which is 
really beautiful to the eye cannot fail of finding a 
responding sentiment in the soul.” 

Helen Ryan felt that the eyes of her companion 
were fixed upon her, and the rich blood mounted to 
her face. Her hand, for the first time, trembled in 
its resting-place. 

“Forgive me,” quickly added Walter, as he no- 
ticed the emotions he had called up. “I spoke only 
as I felt, and I am not used to hiding my honest 
sentiments.” 

The forgiveness he asked for, though not given in 
words, was spoken upon the glowing features of the 
fair girl, and Walter felt himself more strongly 
drawn toward the companion he had so strangely 
met. 

“Take this path to the right,” said Helen. 

“It would seem you are the most competent to 
lead, after all,” remarked Walter, as he turned into ' 
the designated path. 

“Oh, I know the way, but I have to walk more 
slowly when I am alone, You noticed that we 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


51 

crossed a little mound a few feet back of the path 
we have entered.’’ 

Ere long a small red house was brought in sight 
through the bushes, and Helen informed the young 
captain that it was her home. As he approached 
the door-stone he saw the boy gazing from the win- 
dow, and in a moment more he came bounding out. 
He stopped suddenly as he noticed Nixon, but a 
happy look illumined his features, and stepping 
quickly forward, he extended his hand. 

“You took the bria:, sir, didn’t you?” he ex- 
claimed, with a proud look and sparkling eye. 

“Yes, I did, my noble lad, and I have to thank 
you for it, too.” 

“And you wouldn’t be afraid to trust me another 
time, would you?” 

“Not I, Gideon. As soon as I saw your face I 
knew that I could trust you.” 

“And could you not have told by the v^ry sound 
of his voice?” asked Helen, as she laid her hand 
upon her brother’s shoulder. 

“Yes, I think I could,” returned Walter, as he 
gazed with fixed admiration upon the brother and 
sister. 

“Oh, I knew you could. He is a noble boy— all 
that I have on earth now left to love me, or to ” 

“Hush, Helen,” interrupted her brother, at the 
same time kissing her upon the cheek. “You forget 
that we have a father.” 

“A father?” murmured the blind girl, as her lids 
drooped and her countenance fell. “Yes, yes, he is 
our father, but I cannot tell a lie to my soul, Gideon. 
You are all that is left me on earth. But stop ! I for- 
get. Oh, my brother, this noble man has saved my 


52 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


life. But for him you would have seen your sister 
no more.’’ 

Thereupon Helen went on and told to Gideon 
what had transpired in the woods. Gideon Eyan 
thanked him with tears in his eyes, and the words 
that he meant should have expressed his gratitude, 
were almost choked away. 

''My sister,” said he at length, as he laid his hand 
once more upon her arm; "has not God smiled 
upon my humble efforts thus far in behalf of my 
country?” 

"He has indeed,” said Nixon, without waiting for 
Helen to reply. "I should not have come over upon 
this side of the river this morning, had I not been in 
hopes of finding you.” 

"And if I had not called upon you to aid you in 
your expedition against the brig, my sister would 
not now be living.” 

"It resolves itselfeinto that,” responded the young 
captain. 

"And let us give God the praise,” ejaculated 
Helen, clasping her hands fervently together. 

It was now nearly noon, and of course Walter was 
urged to remain and take dinner, to which he con- 
sented. 

"Is not your father at home?” asked Nixon, as 
soon as Helen had gone into the house.” 

"No. He has gone to Boston.” 

"He knows of the capture of the brig, I suppose?” 

"Yes. He was down the river the very next 
morning, and I fear he has gone to Boston to carry 
the news. Perhaps the British commander may 
send down a ship to take you when you attempt to 
go out.” 

"Never mind,” said Walter, after a moment’s 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


63 


thought. ^‘It will be a smart ship that takes our brig 
away from us now. But how long will your father 
remain away?’^ 

“He said he should not be back under a week, 
and he went away day before yesterday.’’ 

A look of strange satisfaction dwelt upon the face 
of Walter Nixon as he heard that the old Tory was 
to be gone so long, and unconsciously he half mur- 
mured it in words, but the boy did not understand 
him. 

At this point Helen appeared at the door and 
called for her brother, and the two repaired to the 
house, where the blind girl had prepared the plain 
dinner. 

For a long hour after Walter moved back from 
the table he sat and conversed with Helen Ryan, 
and the longer he sat the more lovely did the unfor- 
tunate girl appear. 

When at length the young man arose to depart 
he was asked to call again, if he happened to be on 
that side of the river, and he promised that he 
would. 

Walter Nixon happened to be on that side of the 
river the very next day, and of course he called at 
Ryan’s house. He did not fail to notice the quick 
blush of pleasure that settled upon Helen’s counte- 
nance as she heard his voice, nor could he hide from 
himself that he felt a strange pleasure in her com- 
pany. 

No wonder that poor Helen Ryan should love to 
hear the young American captain talk. It was the 
first time for years that she had met with one to 
whom she could thus cling with the confidence of re- 
spect and gratitude. To be sure her brother was all 
in all to her, but he was young ; and though to him 


54 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


she owed all the social happiness she had enioyed, 
yet she drank not inspiration from his words as she 
did from the words of the new friend whom a kind 
Providence had thrown in her path. Her father — 
But of him the reader shall know anon. Suffice it 
for the present to say, that during the next four 
days, Walter made it in his way to call three times 
at the old Tory’s house. 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION, 


55 


CHAPTER VI. 

THE TORY’S LEAGUE — THE SUSPICION. 

It was on a dark, cold rainy night that a party of 
six men were assembled around a small table in the 
back room of the old Tory’s house. At the head of 
the table sat Silas Ryan, the leader of the traitors. 
He was a heavily built, gray-headed man, with high 
cheek bones, small gray eyes, and a countenance 
as sinister as one could find in the State Prison. 
Next to him sat a tall, red-headed, bony, muscular 
man, whom he called Mason. The next in order 
was the most gentlemanly appearing of the lot, but 
his smoothly combed black hair, and his oily look- 
ing countenance stamped him as a ready tool of 
subtle villainy. His name was Baxter. The next, a 
short, snub-nosed fellow, was named Goss. The 
next was a Mr. Dow, a corpulent, red-faced man, 
whose nose betrayed its oft approximation to the 
brandy bottle. Last, but not least in subtle cunning, 
was a fellow named Wimper, who showed by his 
looks, that he was more than half Indi an , 

“Now, gentlemen,” said old Silas Ryan, tapping 
the table with the bottom of a pewter tankard, from 
the depths of which he had just drawn a heavy 
draught of punch, “let us to business. Everything 
is quiet about here, and we shall not be disturbed. 
First of all, what has transpired here since I have 
been gone?” 

“Not much of consequence,” replied Baxter. 

“Yes, there has,” said Dow, whose brandy-bloated 
cheeks fairly shook with the intelligence he had to 
communicate. 


56 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


grunted Baxter. didn’t see it.” 

‘‘No, but I did,” triumphantly exclaimed Dow; 
and his blood-shot eyes looked as though they 
would hav^ sparkled had they been bright enough. 

“Well, out with it. What is it, man?” said Ryan. 

“I’ve been watching the young rebel captain, and 
he’s making himself rather free about your prem- 
ises,” answered Dow. 

“What!” exclaimed Ryan, half starting from his 
seat, and letting the tankard fall upon the table. 
“Are we suspected? Have we been betrayed?” 

“I shouldn’t wonder,” uttered Dow, as such a 
thought for the first time crossed his dull mind and 
frightened him. 

“It must be. But who, who has done it?” and as 
he spoke, Ryan turned his snakish eyes sharply upon 
his league. “The man who has betrayed us had bet- 
ter have never seen the light of day, for he shall 
die.” 

“There ain’t much cause of alarm,” said Wimper, 
the Indian half-breed, as he looked cunningly 
around upon the party. “I have watched the pro- 
ceedings, and I know just where the secret lays. 
It’s your gal, Ryan, that’s brought the young 
captain here.” 

“You don’t mean Helen?” 

“Yes, I do. The second time he came here I man- 
aged to hide myself so as to see and hear them, and 
they were as loving as two doves. It seems this 
Nixon saved the gal’s life by killing a rattlesnake 
that was just going to bite her, so he came home 
with her, and he liked her so well that he came 
three times more. It’s only an affair of the heart.” 

Silas Ryan gazed for a few moments thoughtfully 
upon the empty tankard chat lay upon the table. 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


57 


There was a dark scowl upon his features, and his 
small gray eyes were snapping with a strange effect. 

‘‘Well, it may be so,’’ he murmured, half to him- 
self. “Helen’s pretty enough to look at, and perhaps 
the young fool has been dunce enough to fall in 
love with her, that is, in his way. It can’t be for 
good that he seeks a blind girl like her. But,” and 
the old Tory’s face brightened as he continued, “this 
thing will work admirably, after all. Helen shall be 
a decoy, and we’ll trap the young rebel yet. If he 
comes again he don’t go back alive.” 

The Indian’s face bore a curious look of intelli- 
gence, but he said nothing. 

“Now,” added Ryan, “I suppose the brig is about 
ready to start. ” 

“Yes,” returned Mason. “She was hauled out from 
the dock yesterday, and will sail some time to-mor- 
row.” 

“No, she won’t,” uttered Ryan. 

“But she’s all ready, and I had my yitelligence 
from one of the crew,” persisted Mason. 

“Ah, yes, and so are others ready. I didn’t go to 
Boston for nothing. There’ll be a first class sloop-of- 
war off the harbor to-night, and she’ll shut the rebel 
in. The privateers won’t make quite so much as 
they bargained for.” 

“That sloop-of-war ain’t no good,” growled Mason. 
“I profess to know a little sunthin’ ’bout vessels, 
an’ I tell ye there ain’t a craft in the British fleet 
that could stop her goin’ out, if she only takes a 
dark night for it.” 

“And do you really think that she can get out if 
there’s a sloop-of-war off the harbor?” asked Ryan, 
in a tone that showed considerable confidence in the 
opinions of his right-hand man. 


58 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


‘‘I know she can. I’d bet my head ’gainst that 
empty tankard that I could run her out to-night my- 
self.” 

'‘But Admiral Graves told me she wasn’t much of 
a sailer compared with some others he’d go!;.” 

' Perhaps she wasn’t then, but I tell ye the rebels 
have made wonderful alterations in her. She’ll go 
out in spite of all that can be done.” 

"Then we’ve lost a good thousand pounds,” 
groaned Ryan. 

"Eh! A thousand pounds? How’s that?” asked 
Mason, with a sudden start. 

"Why, General Howe is to pay me that sum if the 
brig’s taken before she gets to sea ; but if she makes 
out to get outside, I sha’n’t get anything.” 

"Hold on a second,” said Mason. "I s’pose you 
got a little sunthin’ for the intelligence we’ve al- 
ready scraped together for him, didn’t ye?” 

■"Yes, two hundred pounds.” 

"Then divide that, and we’ll see about the brig 
afterward.” 

Ryan drew forth an old wallet from the inner lin- 
ing of his waistcoat, and taking* out the money, he 
spread it before him. Then he took a piece of chalk 
from his pocket and commenced figuring on the 
table. 

"Just thirty-three pound, six shillings, and eight 
pence apiece,” he said, as with some difficulty he 
performed the sum. 

"Now,” said Mason, after he had pocketed his 
share of the British gold, "I’ll make you a proposi- 
tion ’bout the brig.” 

All eyes were turned toward him, and those who 
knew him best could see that he had really some 
idea in his mind. 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


59 


you’ll give me one half of that thousand 
pounds, I’ll put the brig into the hands of the sloop- 
of-war, if she’s off the harbor,” he said, at length. 

‘‘How’ll you do it?” asked the rest. 

“No matter. Just say that half of the thousand 
shall be mine, and I’ll do it. I’ll see that the sloop 
has the privateer under British colors in less than 
six hours after she clears the port.” 

I “Isn’t that setting it a little high?” queried Bax- 
ter. 

“Suppose you say three hundred?” said Ryan, 
after a moment’s thought. 

“No.” 

“Four hundred ought to be enough, certainly.” 

“It must be five hundred or nothing,” persisted 
Mason. 

“But that is unreasonable,” said Baxter. 

“And no mistake,” chimed in Dow. “Gad, you 
wouldn’t leave me enough to buy a pipe of brandy.” 

“Then you can do the business yourself.” 

“But, Mason, you know, according to our com- 
pact, we are to share equally in what we receive 
from the British,” said Ryan. 

“Yes, in what we receive for mere intelligence,” 
grunted Mason, “but not in such a case as this. Will 
you go on board the privateer, and, single-handed, 
put her into the hands of the British?” 

“No,” emphatically returned Ryan. 

Mason put the same question to each of the others, 
and received the same answer. 

“Now,” continued he, “you see just where you 
stand. You may have the five hundred pounds to 
divide among you, or you may go without it, just as 
you like.” 


60 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


‘‘And SO you intend to go on board the brig?’’ said 
Ryan. 

“Certainly.’^ 

“But suppose they won’t let you?” 

“I know they will. I am a good seaman, and I flat- 
ter myself that any crew who expect to have flght- 
ing to do would be glad of my services.” 

“Egad, that they would,” uttered Dow, as he sur- 
veyed the gaunt, bony frame of the stout fellow; 
“but it’s a ticklish job, though.” 

“Never mind that, I risk nobody’s head but my 
own.” 

“Have you found out how Nixon managed to 
board the brig?” 

They all shook their heads but Wimper. 

“What do you know of it, Wimper?” 

“Nothing.” 

“Do you know anything?” 

“Yes.” 

“What is it?” 

“The Americans must have had our pass-word 
and signal. 

“Ha! Then we have been betrayed ! ” exclaimed 
Ryan, starting up from his seat. “Can it be that the 
traitor is one of our own number?” 

“Did no one else know of the secret?” asked 
Wimper. 

“No, unless my boy. may have caught it.” 

“Then look to your boy.” 

“Look to him!” uttered Ryan, in blank astonish- 
ment. “It could not have been he.” 

“Nevertheless, you had better look to him,” said 
the Indian, with a meaning look. “He is not always 
under your eyes. ” 

“By the great Jupiter, if I thought Gideon had 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


61 


done this thing, I’d kill him with my own hand. 
But it cannot be so.” 

‘‘Egad, Ryan, I don’t know about that,” uttered 
Dow. “I’ll wager a pipe of brandy against a barrel 
of your ale that it was he, come. The little snipe’^s 
been over to the port more’n once when you didn’t 
know it.” 

Ryan saw that his boy was not only suspected, 
but that conviction sat on every face, and he knew 
that he must take the matter up, or rest under impu- 
tation himself. The former thing he promised to do, 
and when the party separated at midnight, Silas 
Ryan had sworn that his boy should die if he had 
betrayed the league. 


62 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


CHAPTER VII. 

A NEW CHARACTER IN THE FIELD. 

On the next morning, Silas Ryan descended to his 
front room in an angry, sulky mood. He pushed 
Helen roughly out of his way, and as she fell upon 
the floor beneath the force of the push,' he passed 
into the yard. At a short distance from the door, 
engaged in chopping wood, was a man, somewhere 
in the neighborhood of flfty years of age, whose ap- 
pearance would have at once attracted ihe attention 
of any passer. He was a stout-built, heavily framed 
man, with grizzly, bushy hair, and a countenance 
that would have puzzled the most expert physiogno- 
mist. There was a sort of simple look about the 
features, an almost foolish expression, and yet none 
would have thought to easily deceive him when once 
they had seen the quick flashing of his eyes. His 
name was Luke Soper. Gideon was assisting him. 

‘‘Luke,’’ said Ryan, still standing near the door, 
“come here.” 

The man laid down his ax and approached his 
master. 

“Go out into the woods and see if that deer trap is 
sprung.” 

“I’ve been out once this mornin’,” returned Luke. 

“Then go again. It may have sprung since you 
were there.” 

“It couldn’t; there be’ant a deer in no more’n 
ten mile from here.” 

“Go and see, I say. Do you understand?” 

“Yes.” 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


63 


The clown looked hard at his master as he spoke. 

“What are you looking at me for? Why don’t 
you go?” exclaimed Ryan, angrily. 

“I’m goin’,” returned Luke, but when he turned 
away it was with a reluctant step. 

He did not fail to notice that his master was in a 
bad state of mind, and he noticed, too, the look that 
was cast upon Gideon. Twice, after he had started, 
did he turn back his head and hesitate, but at length 
he disappeared in the wood. 

“Gideon,” said Ryan, “come with me.” 

The boy looked up, and a slight tremor shook his 
frame. His father’s face was pale with excitement, 
and the sinister look that usually rested there had 
given place to an expression still darker and more 
powerful. He dared not disobey the summons, how- 
ever, and with a trembling step he followed. 

Silas Ryan led the way to a point in the woods op- 
posite to that which Luke Soper had entered, and 
having gone some dozen rods he turned and faced 
his son. 

“Boy,” said he, “did you know that the captain of 
the rebel privateer was possessed of our secret sig- 
nal and pass-word, when he took the English brig?” 

Gideon started and turned pale. 

“They must have had it, sir,” at length stam- 
mered the boy. 

“Ay, so they must. And who gave it to them? Do 
you know?” 

The boy gazed into his father’s face, but he made 
no answer. 

“Answer me.” 

Gideon Ryan bent his eyes toward the ground 
and thous^ht how he should answer. He would not 


64 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


tell a lie, and he did not dare to refuse to give a re- 
ply. 

‘‘I do know,” he at length said. His face was 
pale as marble, but he was calmer than before. 

^‘And who was it?” 

‘‘I gave the intelligence myself.” 

“You did?” 

“Yes.” 

The old Tory stood like a statue and gazed upon 
his boy. His face was black as night with passion, 
and his eyes flashed with a Are so intense that the 
very lashes seemed to scorch beneath the rays. 

“They paid you for doing it,” he hoarsely whis- 
pered. 

“No. I did it for my country, and if I am ever 
paid for the deed, it will be by seeing the land of my 
birth set free from the tyrant’s rule. I do not sell 
my principles of action.” « 

Silas Ryan started at this last remark, but it 
affected him only to enrage him the more. 

“Boy,” he said, “do you know what you have 
done?” 

“Yes. I have helped my country to take one 
step toward trampling upon her chains.” 

“Ay, and you have sealed your own death-war- 
rant ! You have proved a traitor !” 

“To whom have I proved a traitor?” 

“To your king.” 

“I owe him no allegiance.” 

“You have betrayed your father.” 

“It is my father who has betrayed Himself.” 

“Enough, boy, you must die!” 

“Die ! What do you mean, father?” 

“I mean that you must die. Your death-warrant 
is sealed.” 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 

^‘But you would not kill me? You would not, you 
could not, kill your son?^^ 

“I have sworn by a most solemn oath that if you 
had been guilty of this crime I would take your life. 
You know how insecure are the lives of the royal 
party, and more especially the lives of those of us 
who are acting as spies. Our compact is immutable, 
and you are doomed to death. You knew better.’’ 

•‘Oh, fattier, father, you will not kill your boy!” 
shrieked Gideon, sinking upon his knees, and clasp- 
ing his hands together. 

“Yes,'I will. Did you not voluntarily place my 
own life in danger, and betray my cause?” 

“But I made them promise that they would not 
harm you.” 

“Ah, then, you did even betray me by name? 
Prepare, for you die !” 

“No, no — oh, God! I did not— I would not ” 

“Silence! Say your prayers if you know any,” 
said Ryan, and as he spoke he drew a heavy pistol 
from his bosom and cocked it. 

“Oh, but my poor sister — my poor blind Helen — 
who will be a companion for her?” passionately ex- 
claimed the boy, as the big tears began to roll down 
his cheeks. 

“Let her shift for herself. I believe she is a viper 
in my house as well as yourself. There is a pair of 
you.” 

In an instant the whole expression of the boy’s 
face changed. The tears ceased flowing, the dark 
eyes flashed, the lips quivered, and he started to his 
feet. 

“Fire,” he said, as he folded his arms across his 
breast. “I am too weak to resist you, and I am too 
proud to beg further. I would not change places 


66 


THE YAKKEE CHAMPION. 


with you, and if you be truly my father, then may 
God not hold me accountable for your sins, nor visit 
upon me his wrath for your transgressions.” 

The old gray-headed Tory uttered a bitter curse, 
and with a hand made tremulous only by the anger 
that raged in his bosom, he raised the pistol. The 
noble boy did not flinch, but he stood steadily there, 
and with his arms still folded, he gazed boldly into 
his father’s face. 

“May God have mercy on me, and protect my 
poor sister!” he murmured, and then he closed his 
eyes. 

Ryan stretched forth his pistol, placed his finger 
upon the trigger, but he did not fire, for at that mo- 
ment some one leaped like a panther from a tree be- 
hind him, and struck him a blow upon the side of 
the head that felled him to the earth. Gideon heard 
the movement, and opening his eyes he saw Luke 
Soper standing over the prostrate form of his fa- 
ther, and with a single bound he leaped into his de- 
liverer’s arms. He could not have calmly died now. 

Ryan was not fairly stunned, and in a moment he 
sprang to his feet, but not, however, until Luke had 
secured the pistol. 

“Was’t you?” whispered the foiled villain, as he 
turned his eyes upon Luke, while his lips quivered. 

“Yes, Silas Ryan, it was me,” returned Luke, 
without so much as winking. 

“Now you shall both die!” 

“Not yet, Silas Ryan. I knowed you didn’t mean 
no good to the boy, and I feared you meant a good 
deal of harm. Thank God, I saved his life, and 
yours, too; for had you killed him there would have 
been more blood upon my own hands.” 

“Beware, Luke. Give me that pistoL” 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


67 


“Not now.” 

“I tell you, the boy dies!” 

“Then you die!” 

“Luke Soper, you would not dare to lay your hand 
upon me.” 

“If you were to kill this hoy, I’d murder you, sure. 
Make your mind easy on that.” 

“By the great Jupiter, Luke, I’ll take your life 
for this. Give me that pistol, and let the boy-traitor 
go.” 

“You shall not have the pistol, nor shall you have 
the life of this boy. Silas, when you and I did that 
foul deed I swore there should be no more blood.” 

Ryan gathered himself for a spring, and with a 
fierce oath he bounded forward ; but he might have 
known that he sprang upon one with whom he was 
no match in physical strength. Luke met him with 
a clenched fist, and again the old Tory was felled to 
the earth. 

“Silas Ryan, you’d better give up this mad fieak, 
and you’d better not trouble me too much, for, fool, 
ish as I am, I can be made as angry as you are now.” 

“Villain! dastard! idiot!” shrieked Ryan, get- 
ting once more upon his feet ; “I’ll have your heart’s 
blood for this!” 

“No, you won’t, Silas Ryan. You daren’t take my 
life. I have made provision for that. There is 
another who knows all about your secret, and the 
moment harm comes to me, he will pounce upon you. 
I may be a simpleton, but you cannot overreach me. 
You'll think better of this when you get sober. Of 
one thing you may feel certain; when these two 
children ” 

“Silence! Luke— silence,” uttered Ryan, turning 
pale with another sensation than anger. 


68 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


“Well, I will keep silent now; but mind this; I’ll 
protect the two children now, if it takes my own 
heart’s blood. Come, Gideon, we’ll go to the house.” 

As he spoke he led the boy from the spot, but Silas 
Ryan moved not then to follow him. 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


69 


CHAPTER VIII. 

THE TORY-TRAITOR’S FATE. 

It was a cool morning, but yet it was gloriously 
beautiful. The white frost glistened in the sun- 
beams, and the air was fresh and bracing. Upon 
the breeze-ruffled bosom of the Merrimac, lay a 
Yankee brig, a beautiful thing, seeming almost to 
have sprung into physical life. Few people could 
have recognized in that ocean siren the British 
war-brig, but such she really had been. 

Near the foremast, upon a coil of cable that had 
just been stowed in warping out, sat a tall, quaint, 
muscular, red-headed man, who had shipped on 
board that morning. The reader will recognize in 
thisi person the Tory spy and miscreant. Mason. The 
young captain had liked the muscular appearance 
of the man, and though the sinister countenance was 
anything but pleasing, yet he felt nowise’ loth to 
take him. 

Nixon and Jake Maynard were standing together 
upon her quarter-deck. The latter, during the re- 
modeling of the brig, had shown himself so thor- 
oughly acquainted with all the affairs of shipboard 
that he had, by the desire of the captain, and with 
the consent of the other officers, been appointed to 
the important post of gunner, a promotion that 
pleased him not a little. They had been conversing 
upon the subject of getting under way, and were 
just taking a turn toward the tafferel, when one of 
the men, who was wiping the binnacle lights, 
dropped his rags and uttered a quick, startling ex- 
clamation. 


70 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


“What’s the matter?” asked Nixon, starting aft. 

“Look there, sir.” 

The captain looked in the direction pointed out, 
and saw, just standing into sight beyond the head 
of Plum Island, a British sloop-of-war. Mason got 
up from the coil of cable and came aft. 

“That’s bad,” uttered Nixon, as he set his teeth 
together and clenched his fists. “They must have 
come down here to look after the brig.” 

“Of course,” returned Maynard, at the same time 
looking half vacantly at the sloop-of -war. 

“Perhans they’ve come to relieve the brig,” sug- 
gested Baker. 

“It makes no odds what they’ve come for,” said 
Nixon. “One thing is certain ; they’ll make us out 
for a privateer, and they’ll be likely to stop a spell 
out there.” 

“But we can get out,” said Maynard. 

“Of course,” responded Walter. “That fellow will 
do us no harm ; but then we shall have to wait till 
night.” 

Jake Maynard happened at that moment to cast 
his eyes toward Mason, and he was startled by the 
expression that rested upon that individual’s face. 
It was a sort of diabolical grin, half of exultation 
and half of subtle villainy. The old man did not stop 
to study the expression, for he was confident that 
his own countenance showed the suspicion that had 
sprung to his thoughts, and he turned away his head 
and looked again toward the English ship. 

“Capt’n Nixon,” said he; “I b’lieve some bloody 
Tory has been to Boston an’ posted ’em up on this 
affair. I know there’s a nest of the black scamps 
around here somewheres,” 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


71 


^‘So do quickly returned Nixon, while a flash 
of intelligence shot athwart his face. 

Maynard cast a sidelong glance at Mason. He 
needed no more to confirm his suspicions, and he 
resolved that he would keep his own counsel and 
take the new man under his especial surveillance. 

‘'What’ll you do?” asked Cummings, as it seemed 
to be generally understood that the sloop-of-war had 
been sent down in consequence of intelligence the 
British had received with regard to the capture of 
the brig. “I shall wait till night, and then run out,” 
returned Nixon. 

As the captain said this, he took one or two turns 
up and down the deck, and then he came back and 
looked at the sloop, which was still in the offing, and 
standing slowly to the northward. 

“Mr. Baker,” said he, turning to his first ofiicer, 
“get up the mast-ropes and burtons. Send the lar- 
board watch aloft to clear away the rigging. I’m 
going to send down the yards and topgallant-masts, 
and house the topmasts. Have the men work lively, 
sir.” 

“What’s all that for?” 

“To pull the wool over that Englishman’s eyes. 
As soon as everything is down, I’m going to up 
anchors and haul into the dock again. He’ll watch 
our movements and think we are hauling up for 
some heavy job, and then he won’t Be so likely to 
keep a very bright lookout throughout the night.” 

All saw the drift of the thing, and the men went 
to work with a will, and in less than two hours the 
brig was half stripped and heeled over against one 
of the wharves, and there she lay during the rest of 
the day as innocent as a kitten. Her claws and 


72 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


teeth had grown out, but they hadn’t scratched or 
bitten yet. 

‘‘Well, captain, have you determined what to call 
our vessel yet?” asked Baker, as he came up to 
where Nixon and some dozen of the men were stand- 
ing. 

“Yes,” replied Nixon. 

“And what is it?” 

“We’ll name her The Yankee Champion.” 

“The Yankee Champion!” yelled Jake Maynard, 
as he swung his hat in the air. “May she wear the 
Yankee flag, and do a Yankee’s duty, till there 
ain’t one enemy’s foot on our sile, nor an enemy’s 
ship on our coast! Hurrah!” 

The whole crew joined in that wild hurrah, and 
they gave it three times three. No, there was one 
who opened not his lips. That was Mason. The 
old gunner had his eye on him, however, and the 
traitor was a marked man, though he knew it not. 
The villain might hide his plans, but he couldn’t hide 
his face nor his feelings. 

As soon as it was well dark the masts were all 
Added and the yards sent aloft, and the brig was 
once more hauled out into the stream. 

The night was comparatively dark, and at ten 
o’clock the anchor was hove up and^ails made. The 
wind was a little to the eastward of the north, so 
that the brig could stand out with a good full, and 
ere long she was on her way through the channel. 

tTust before the brig reached the little island at 
the mouth of the river, one of the lookouts discovered 
a boat pulling toward the northern shore from the 
sea. She was hailed, but no answer was returned. 
Nixon sprang for his night-glass, and leveling it, he 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


73 


could see that the boat contained four or five men, 
and that they were pulling with all their might. 

^‘Fire into them/’ exclaimed Cummings. ‘‘God 
knows it’s some of that Tory gang.” 

“So do I know it,” said the captain. 

“Then let ’em have it.” 

“And wake up the sloop-of-war, eh? No, no, Cum- 
mings, that won’t do. Let them go.” 

Jack Maynard heard a low chuckle close behind 
him as the captain made this remark, and on turn- 
ing, he beheld Mason. His hand involuntarily 
moved toward the place where his pistol was con- 
cealed, and his teeth grated together. 

“I begin to see through it,” muttered the old man 
to himself, as he turned toward the gangway. 
“This scamp has come aboard here to cut up some 
shine so as to cripple us, an* that boat's been off to 
the Englishman to let him into the secret; but I’m 
bio wed if they don’t get their fingers in it.” 

The little island was cleared, and the Yankee 
Champion had begun to make the offing, when the 
Englishman was discovered standing off upon the 
larboard tack about half a mile distant. The brig 
had yet over a mile to make before she could clear 
Newbury Bar, and of course Nixon had no hopes of 
doing it without being detected. If, however, 
there was a doubt in his mind, it was removed, for 
he could see, with the aid of his powerful glass, 
that the sloop was wearing, and he continued to 
watch her until she commenced standing down 
toward him. 

Meanwhile, Maynard had kept his eyes upon 
Mason. As soon as the Englishman had been dis- 
covered, the villain stealthily edged along toward the 
brass gun, and in a few moments he began to finger 


74 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


around the apron. Two or three times he cast his 
eyes furtively about him, and then he drew his knife 
from his pocket, and having opened it he drew the 
edge across the lanyard that kept the apron in its 
iplace. 

! Hallo,” exclaimed Maynard, appearing to have 
just come up ; ‘‘what you doin’ with this gun?” 

“Doing?” uttered Mason, suddenly starting and 
hiding his knife. 

“Yes, what are you doin’?” 

“Why, I’m looking at the gun.” 

“Well, there ain’t the least need in the world of 
your looking at it, so go away from it.” 

“Are you the captain of this brig?” 

“I’m capt’n of this gun, old red-head.” 

“Be careful, old man, how you insult me,” said 
Mason, in a trembling voice. 

“Oh, you needn’t get mad.” 

“I sha’n’t if you don’t insult me.” 

“Nor I sha’n’t insult ye if you don’t meddle with 
this gun.” 

Now both Maynard and Mason had reason not to 
carry matters too far at present — the former, that 
he might not excite too much suspicion, and the lat- 
ter, that he might not be suspected; but it was 
with much effort that they restrained their respect- 
ive passions. The latter gazed at the old gunner a 
moment, and then he doggedly turned away. 

“Well, now, I wonder what that cuss meant to do,” 
muttered Jake, as he held up the end of the cut lan- 
yard. “Now he’ll be up to some other game. Such 
a cuss ain’t fit to live — where is he?” 

There was a pretty big oath accompanied this self- 
asked question, but the old man’s meditations were 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


75 


cut short by the whizzing of a shot over his head, 
and the booming of one of the sloop-of -war’s guns. 

‘^That came rather close,” said he, as he sprang to 
the quarter-deck, and looked after the Englishman. 

‘‘Full as near as agreeable,” returned Nixon. 

“Hadn’t we better give ’em a taste of long-tom?” 

“No, no, Maynard; we should have to luff, as we 
stand now, to do that, and I’d rather get out of the 
reach of her ” 

Before the young captain could finish his sentence, 
smash came a shot from the enemy, and carried 
away the starboard main- brace. 

“That shot must have glanced off in a most un- 
common manner to have hit the main-brace,” said 
Nixon, after the temporary brace had been belayed. 

“May I be blessed if it mustn’t though,” uttered 
Baker, who now for the first time noticed the 
anomaly of the thing. “Ah, there’s another one.” 

This last remark alluded to another shot that came 
harmlessly by. The Englishman was firing his bow- 
chasers about as fast as they could be loaded, but 
most of the shot hit wide of their mark. 

The brace was hauled in, and it was found that it 
was the standing part that had been carried away, 
and that, too, close to the bumkin. 

“Bring here a lantern, quick!” exclaimed Nixon, 
as he took the end of the brace in his hand. 

“By heavens! that brace was never cut by a 
ball !” he uttered, as he held it to the light. “It was 
a knife alone that did that.” 

Jake Maynard started as though he had been shot. 
The men had most all of them gathered about the 
starboard quarter, and he ran his eye quickly over 
them ; but the one whom he sought was not there. 


76 THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 

^‘Is there a traitor on board this hrig?’^ slowly and 
meaningly asked Walter Nixon, still holding up the 
end of the brace, which had been smoothly cut with 
a knife till only about half a dozen yarns held it. 

The men looked at each other and trembled, for 
they feared a secret traitor as they would have 
feared a hidden adder ; but no one spoke. 

^'My men,^’ continued Nixon, just as another shot 
came plowing up the water alongside, “we have 
an enemy astern, and if we cannot whip him, we 
can at least escape him. He is not an enemy to be 
feared, even were he alongside, for with brave 
Yankee hearts beating in our bosoms we know how 
and where to meet him ; but if we have a traitor in 
our midst, a cowardly viper who springs upon us 
with the song of a dove, a-nd stings us to the death 
with the poison of a serpent, we are no longer safe. 
Where is the man?’^ 

A low murmur ran through the crowd of men, 
and they gazed anxiously each upon the other, but 
none of them spoke audibly. Old Maynard started 
forward, and looked about upon the forecastle, but 
nowhere could he see Mason, and he was just on the 
point of descending to the berth-deck by the way of 
the fore-hatch, when he heard a suppressed, choking 
cough over his head, and on looking aloft he saw a 
man just climbing the futtock shrouds. By the pale 
light of the moon he could see that it was Mason. 
Quick as thought the old man sprang into the rig- 
ging, and taking two rattlings at a leap, he made 
his way aloft. The shrouds, having just been set 
up, were so taut that they shook but a trifle beneath 
Maynard’s weight, and Mason could not have heard 
him. As the gunner rounded the edge of the top he 
saw the villain half way up the top-gallant rigging. 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


11 


‘‘Who is that up there?’’ Maynard asked of one 
of the two men who were stationed in the top. 

“It’s that new man,” returned the top-keeper. 

“Mason?” 

“Yes.” 

“What’s he after?” 

“I don’t know. He’s stationed in the top, you 
know.” 

“Hallo, there!” cried Maynard. “Fore-topmast- 
crosstrees, there. What ye after up there?” 

Mason stopped and looked down. 

“What ye after, I say?” repeated Maynard. 

“I’m going up to keep a lookout from the cross- 
trees,” at length answered Mason, and as he spoke 
he started on. 

“Stop ! Come down out o’ that.” 

“I’ll see you hanged first. You are not going to 
order me around just as you please.” 

Mason had now reached the topmast head,and the 
old gunner thought he could see a sheath-knife in 
his hand. The villain’s body was bent forward, but 
Maynard was convinced that he was reaching 
toward the topsail-tie. The scamp meant to cut it, 
and let the yard down by the run. 

Jacob Maynard may have hesitated for a moment, 
and his heart may have beat more quickly than was 
its wont; but he set his teeth together with a grat- 
ing force, and took one step higher in the rigging. 
Then he grasped the forward shroud with his left 
hand, and with his right he drew his pistol. There 
was a sharp, double click, as the hammer was 
drawn back, and the old man took a deliberate aim. 
At that instant the brig rode upon a smooth sea — on 
the next, a sharp report rung upon the air, and the 
men upon deck started in alarm. The Tory villain 


78 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


uttered a quick cry, swayed for a moment to and 
fro, then his hold was broken, and he fell sideways 
from the rigging, struck the topsail yard, and in a 
moment more there was a dull, heavy sound upon 
the forecastle. The Tory had lost his five hundred 
pouxxds. 

Jacob Maynard quickly descended to the deck, 
and just as he stepped from the Jacob’s ladder he 
met the captain and part of the crew. 

‘‘What’s this, Maynard?” asked Nixon. 

The old man sprang to where lay the body of the 
Tory, and placing his foot upon the motionless 
breast, he replied : 

“Here it is, sir—the traitor! I shot at him just as 
he was goin’ to cut the topsail-tie.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Just as sure as I am that I’m alive.” 

“Then thank God for his death,” uttered the cap- 
tain. “He looked like a villain; but how did you 
make him out?” 

“I happened to catch his eye when the sloop-of- 
war fust hove in sight this mornin’, an’ I knowed by 
the way he looked that it wasn’t no news to him. 
Then, when we gave three times three for the Yan- 
kee Champion, he didn’t open his lips. Then I caught 
him afoul of the long gun, and I found he had cut 
the Ian} ard of the apron. He meant to have wet the 
powder, I s’pose. It was he that cut the main-brace 
— there ain’t no mistake about it. I followed him 
up the fore riggin’ an’ caught him just poking his 
knife around the tie. I told him to come down, an’ 
he wouldn’t, an’ there he is; an’ what’s more, I 
should like the handlin’ of his whole kidney, for I 
tell ye, there’s a nest of ’em somewhere round.” 

“You’ve done well and nobly, my old friend,” ex- 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


79 


claimed Walter, as he turned and caught the old 
gunner by the hand. 

“I’ve done my duty, that’s all,’^ returned the old 
man; “and I’m ready to do it again.” 

“I believe you; and I believe, too, that every man 
here can honestly say the same. Is it not so, my 
men?” 

A simultaneous, thundering “yes!” burst from 
every lip. 

“Now, bring the dog’s carcass aft, and let's over- 
haul it,” said the captain, and at the command half 
a dozen men sprang to obey. 

As soon as the body was laid down by the bin- 
nacle two of the men began to overhaul the pockets, 

“That’s British gold!” said Nixon, as a well-filled 
purse was emptied on deck. “It shall go to feed our 
soldiers at Cambridge. Ah, what’s that?” 

“A bundle of papers, sir,” returned the man who 
had taken them from a private pocket on the inside 
of the Tory’s waistcoat. 

The captain took the package and turned toward 
the binnacle light. He looked at one of the papers, 
then folded it and laid it aside. Then he opened 
another; as he commenced reading it his eyes 
flashed, and his countenance was lighted up by a 
strange fire. After he had read the contents, he ran 
his eyes over them again. Then he refolded the 
paper and turned toward his oflScers. 

“Mr. Baker, Cummings, Maynard, come with me 
to the cabin. There’s work ahead. My brave men, 
cheer up ; you shall try your wits ere long. Keep the 
brig as she now heads. ” 

Thus speaking, the captain passed down to his 
cabin, and his officers followed him. The sloop-of- 
war had already been left so far astern that her shots 


80 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


no longer reached their mark, and had almost 
dwindled from sight in the distant darkness when 
she ceased firing. 

The Yankee Champion was upon her native ele- 
ment, free and untrammeled, and the brave hearts 
that beat within her were yearning for the first 
blow that should be struck beneath their Yankee 
flag. 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


81 


CHAPTER IX. 

‘ AIL-HO ! ’ ’—THE CONVOY. 

After the privateer’s oflBcers had become seated 
around the cabin table, the captain reopened the 
paper that had so strangely attracted his attention, 
and again read it through. His companions watched 
him with anxious countenances, and wondered 
what he had found. 

‘‘Maynard,” he said at length, as he spread the 
open paper before him, “your quick eye and ready 
arm are likely to have done more service than you 
may think for. That Mason was most deeply dyed 
in Toryism of the rankest kind, and the British have 
placed the most unbounded confidence in him.” 

“Well,” returned Maynard, with a peculiarly 
twinkling eye, “I don’t know how far they would 
trust him, but I don’t think much of his judgment. 
Why, the tarnal fool might ’ave known that he’d 
get detected.” 

“Oh, perhaps not. In all probability he had not 
the least idea that he was suspected, and if he had 
succeeded in cutting the foretopsail-tie, the sloop-of- 
war would have overhauled us before he could have 
been convicted, had you not had your eye on him.” 

“Just as likely as not you are right, capt’n. I 
guess the sneakin’ villain did really think he could 
come aboard here an’ do pretty much as he was a 
mind to without getting caught.” 

“Seems to me if I had discovered the fellow as 
soon as you did, I should have told of it and had 
him nabbed at once,^” said Cummings. 


82 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION* 


no, that wouldn’t have done, for he hadn’t 
commenced operations then ; and one is enough to 
know such a thing as that, for if there’d been half a 
dozen watching him he’d have smelled the rat an’ 
laid low. I knowed one could catch him the best. 
He wouldn’t have cut the main-brace, only he did 
it while I was getting up the shot-plugs.” 

^‘Maynard was right,” said Nixon. 

^^Oh, certainly,” admitted Cummings. 

Now, Ben Cummings was not the man to carry 
forward a complicated plot, for he greatly lacked 
cool judgment ; but he was a sailor, every inch of 
him, and he was fearless in present danger— just 
the man for his position. 

^‘And now,” continued Captain Nixon, ‘‘let’s see 
how much we have gamed by the detection of this 
Tory. This paper was originally addressed to Silas 
Ryan, Esquire, and is signed by one of General 
Howe’s secretaries, and I take this cypher in the cor- 
ner to be simply a mark made by the general him- 
self to signify that it v as written by his orders. ^ It 
is meant for a sort of instruction and bond, both. I 
will read it : 

“ ‘Boston, Nov. 12, 1775. 

“ ‘To Silas Ryan, Esquire, and the League of 
Safety for His Royal Majesty.’ ” 

“Well, that’s a fine sounding beginning, I must 
say,” uttered Cummings. 

“League of Safety! Well, one on ’em’s safe 
enough, anyhow,” added Maynard; “an’ if we 
don’t miss it we’ll safety the rest on ’em afore we’ve 
done with ’em.” 

Nixon smiled at the old man’s earnestness, and 
then continued to read : 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


83 


‘‘ ‘Having learned that a band of piratical rebels 
have seized upon one of his majesty’s vessels ofwar, 
and, moreover, that it is the purpose of said rebels 
to use said vessel against the royal interests, you 
and your league shall, if you can contrive to deliver 
said vessel into the hands of our faithful officers, re- 
ceive therefor the sum of one thousand pounds ; and 
this shall be a bond for the payment of said sum. 
We are particular that you should make all possible 
haste in this matter, for in the course of two weeks 
we expect several store-ships from England, and 
though they will be under the protection of a heavy 
frigate, yet I would not have one of those Yankee 
pirates prowling about. In doing this, you will 
merit the thanks of your lawful king.’ 

“What think you of that, gentlemen?” asked 
Walter, as he laid the paper on the table. 

“It looks as though there might be business for 
us,” answered Baker. 

“Yankee pirates!” growled Jake Maynard, with 
an expressive look of indignation. “I shall just put 
a pin in there, an’ lay it up. I wonder what in 
thunder the dad-rotted old king calls himself?” 

“It makes but little odds what they call us,” said 
Cummings. “I want to see the color of their eyes 
on the open sea, that’s all.” 

“Well, I’m thinking we shall have a chance be- 
fore long,” said Nixon. “The store-ships cannot have 
arrived yet, and we can easily intercept them.” 

“And the frigate — how’ll you dispose of her?” 
asked Cummings. 

“That depends upon circumstances,” returned the 
captain. “We must see to that when we get them 
in sight. We’ve got a craft under us that will han- 
dle easy, and I haven’t the least doubt but that we 
shall be able to cut off one of the store vessels, at 
least.” 


84 


'IHE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


‘'We can try, at all events,’^ said Baker. 

“An’ if we try we shall be sure to do it,” added 
Maynard. 

“Now let us see how we are to stand.” 

As the captain said this he arose from the table 
and got a chart of the New England coast, which he 
spread upon the table. After a short consultation, 
the necessary course was decided upon, and the 
party repaired to the deck. The captain called the 
men aft and explained to them the intelligence he 
had gained, and informed them of what he intended 
to do. A hearty cheer broke upon the air, and as 
the crew left the quarter-deck they were in a state 
of glad excitement. 

It was a little past noon on the third day from 
port. The cooks had cleared away the mess dishes, 
the deck had been cleared up, and the men were 
lounging about upon the booms and gun-carriages. 
The captain and his first officer were pacing the 
quarter-deck in thoughtful silence, both of them ap- 
parently nervous and uneasy. But in an instant the 
whole face of the scene was changed. 

“Sail-ho!” shouted the lookout, at the fore-top- 
mast' crosstrees. 

“Where away?” asked the captain, springing 
quickly forward. 

“About two points on the weather bow.” 

“Can 5 ou make her out?” 

“Not yet, sir; but she’s square rigged.’^ 

“Keep your glass on her, and watch her well as 
she rises.” 

“She’s a heavy ship, sir, with her royals on.” 

“How does she head?” 

“She must be close-hauled on the starboard tack.” 

“Is she alone ?’^ 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


85 


^‘Hold on. No! There’s another onel Wait a 
minute There’s two more, sir.’^ 

‘‘Are they standing the same way?’^ 

“Yes, sir.^^ 

The captain sprang aft and got his glass. 

“Keep her as she is,” he said to the man at the 
wheel, and then he clapped the glass under his arm 
and ran up the fore-rigging. 

He ascended to the crosstrees, and found that the 
three sails were now visible to the naked eye. For 
ten minutes he sat there, and when he came down 
his face was worked upon by the most intense satis- 
faction. ^ 

“Man the braces, fore and aft,” he exclaimed, as 
he reached the quarter-deck. “Stand by to brace 
all up sharp. Down with the helm. WeTl let her 
go about on the other tack, Mr. Baker.” 

The brig was soon upon the starboard tack, head- 
ing back toward Massachusetts Bay. 

“Those are the chaps we’ve been looking for,” 
said Nixon, as soon as the brig was upon a taut bow- 
line. “There’s a frigate, and a ship and a brig. The 
brig is a heavy one, and I think I shall try my hand 
on her.” 

“Which sails farthest from the convoy?” 

“The brig.” 

“Then I think we’d better make our minds up for 
her. The next thing is to get around the frigate.” 

“I’ve been thinking,” said Nixon, “of making a 
bold stroke. You see, we are standing now the way 
that the frigate is. Now, 1 don’t believe but that we 
might pass our brig for what she was two weeks 
ago. My plan is this : I mean to stand on this tack 
until I think we can wear down upon the frigate at 
about sundown. We can easily keep her in sigW 


86 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


until that time without being seen ourselves. Then 
I mean to hail the Englishman with the British flag 
at our peak, give him the name this brig bore be- 
fore we took her, and run the risk of being detected. 
After that we can drop astern, and lay our plans 
for cuting out our victim. What do you think of it?’’ 

‘T think it will work,” returned Baker, after he 
had given the subject a few moments’ thought. 
“The brig is a good deal altered, but if we don’t get 
alongside the frigate till about dusk I don’t believe 
she’ll notice it.” 

“Nor do I,” said the captain. “Then it will soon 
be dark, you know, and we can operate without 
danger ; for even should the frigate detect us in the 
act of taking her charge, she couldn’t do us much 
harm, considering the darkness and the distance.” 

Nixon’s plan was Anally settled upon, and pre- 
parations were made for carrying it into execution. 
About half an hour before sundown the topgallant- 
sails and royals were set, the English flag hoisted, 
and then the Yankee Champion was put before the 
wind. In fifteen minutes the heads of the frigate’s 
courses were brought in sight, and soon afterward 
her double-banked hull was up. On flew the impu- 
dent Yankee, with a careless, saucy air, directly 
down upon the towering frigate, and no one could 
have dreamed that she meant any harm. 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


87 


CHAPTEE X. 

THE STKATAGEM. 

As the Yankee came scooting down across the 
Englishman’s stern, ‘‘Brig ahoy!” shouted some one 
from the deck of the frigate. 

“Hallo!” returned Nixon, who had donned an 
epaulet. 

“What brig is that?” 

“His majesty’s brig Vampyre.” 

It was now fairly dusk, and the frigate’s larboard 
hammock-nettings were lined with men. Nixon 
knew that the exact Yankeeism of his men and 
their clothes could not be detected from the enemy’s 
deck, and he made himself perfectly easy. 

“Frigate ahoy!” he shouted as soon as he got 
within easy hailing distance. 

“Hallo!” came from the captain of the English- 
man, whose epaulets could be distinguished. 

“Have you seen anything of a piratical-looking 
schooner about here?” 

“No. Haven’t seen a sail for a fortnight till I 
saw you.” 

“Don’t you bring a transport with you?” 

“Yes, that ship has got five companies aboard.” 

“Then the brig must be loaded with stores?” 

“Yes.” 

“Well, General Howe needs them badly enough, 
I assure you. The infernal Yankees are starving 
him out.” 

“Where are you bound?” 

“We are on a cruise along the coast after a couple 
of Yankee privateers. I think I shall fall in your 


88 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


wake till morning, and then keep away toward 
Long Island.’’ 

‘‘Ay, ay.” 

“Hallo,” continued Walter. 

“Well, what is it?” 

“The old admiral wished me, if I overhauled you, 
to put you on your guard against the Yankees, and 
bid you keep your eye on your charges as you ap* 
proached the coast.” 

“Does Graves think I’m a fool?” 

“No, no — but we have had some of our best store- 
ships taken by these Yankees, and one can’t be too 
careful. There are three or four of them prowling 
about, and they are not to be laughed at.” 

“t don’t think one of them will venture near my 
frigate,” returned the Englishman, in a proud, con- 
fident tone. “But what*s old Graves been doing 
with the Vampyre? TIope he hasn’t painted the 
whole fieet as black as you are?” 

“Oh, no,” replied Walter, with a laugh. “My 
brig was up for painting, and before we had time to 
get the white stripe on, I had to come out.” 

“Look out, or you’ll get caught,” said Baker. “If 
the Englishman ain’t a fool, he’ll know that’s all 
gammon.” 

“What’s all gammon?” 

“Why, painting over the white streak with black, 
when you meant to paint it white again. That 
won’t go down.” 

“It was rather careless, I must confess,” returned 
Nixon; “but he won’t notice it, or if he does. I’ll 
smooth it over.” 

“You can drop astern, if you like,” said the Eng- 
lish captain. 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


89 


‘‘I will. Success to you.’^ 

‘‘Thank you.^^ 

With that the epauletted Englishman handed his 
speaking-trumpet to one of the quartermasters and 
left the poop. Nixon shivered his main-topsail, and 
the frigate passed on ahead. Next came the trans- 
port, a fine looking ship of some six hundred tons. 
The compliments of the evening were passed, and 
she, too, ranged ahead. At the distance of a quarter 
of a mile from the frigate came the store-brig. She 
was heavily loaded, and lumbered through the water 
with her bobstay dipping. She could not have been 
less than three hundred tons burden, and she was 
loaded down with as much as she would bear. 

Just as the brig came abreast of the privateer, 
Walter had the main yard braced up, and as the 
topsail filled he began to sail again. He was not over 
half a cable’s length from the Englishman, and 
though the sails of the latter took much of the wind 
from him, yet he found that his vessel would range 
ahead under full canvas, so he had the royals and 
topgallant-sails taken in. 

The two brigs were near enough to hold quite a 
sociable conversation, and the Englishman com- 
menced it by asking about the same questions that 
had been propounded by the captain of the frigate, 
to all of which Walter cheerfully answered, and 
also giving a pretty clear account of how matters 
stood in Boston and vicinity. 

Before the Yankee Champion had dropped out of 
ear-shot, Walter had learned all that he desired to 
know about the English brig. She was loaded with 
provisions mostly, though she had eight tons of pow- 
der on board in copper tanks. She had only twenty 
men on board, all told, and of those only seventeen 


90 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


stood watch, so that her watch at night could only 
consist of eight or nine men. 

‘‘Are you going into the bay?’’ asked the captain 
of the store-brig, as the two vessels had become 
pretty well separated. 

“No, I shall drop off to the southward in the 
morning.” 

“Then we shall have a safe protection through the 
night, with a frigate ahead, and a brig-of-war 
astern.” 

“Yes, very.” 

“Of course,” chuckled Jake Maynard. 

By the time the privateer had fairly fallen into 
the Englishman’s wake it was dark, and in order to 
keep astern, Walter found it necessary to hoist the 
fore staysail and clew* up his heavy foresail. The 
wind had lulled some since the sun went down, but 
yet it blew a good five-knot breeze, though they 
were not now making more than three. 

It was nearly half-past seven, and the frigate 
could only be distinguished through the gloom by 
the light sh<^. carried at her peak. Her hull, and even 
her tall spars were visible. The transport could only 
be seen indistinctly as a dark mass against the 
fieecy horizon. 

“Get your cutlasses, all the starboard watch, and 
stand by to board that brig. Be sure and let no 
man take a pistol, for I would not have one fired for 
a thousand guineas. I want the captains of the fore- 
castle, and of the tops, a quarter-gunner and a boat- 
swain’s mate.” 

Five men stepped eagerly forward. 

“You,” said the captain, as he ran his eyes over 
the stout fellows, “are to carefully guard the compan- 
ion ways of the Englishman. The moment you board 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


91 


spring at once to your posts and secure them. Don’t 
stop to strike a blow, for remember there’ll be 
enough to do that. The heaviest work will be at 
the forecastle. The captains of the forecastle and 
the fore- top and the boatswain’s mate will attend to 
that, while the quarter-gunner and the captain of 
the main-top will attend to the cabin companion- 
way. Lay after here, the starboard watch. Now,” 
continued Walter, as the men gathered about him, 
‘T am going to lay you alongside of that brig with- 
out exciting her suspicion. Our bulwarks are the 
highest, and you can leap on board of her without 
trouble. Lay along under the weather rails, for I 
am going to run under her lee, and on the instant 
you hear the word, jump. Spot your man and se- 
cure him. There’ll be three of you to one of the 
Englishmen, and if you are careful there needn’t be 
noise enough to awaken a mouse. Remember, now, 
be firm, quick, and sure. Don’t kill a man if you 
can help it.” 

At eight o’clock, Nixon could hear the officer of 
the brig as he set the first watch. In half an hour 
afterward he felt confident that the other watch 
had gone below, and he gave orders for boarding 
the foretack. 

‘"Brig ahoy!” he shouted, as soon as he came 
within hailing distance. 

“Hallo!” returned the officer of the Englishman. 

The Yankee had ranged ahead her own length be- 
fore Walter answered. 

“Have you got any papers from home?” he asked. 

“Yes, a few,” returned one whom Walter knew, 
by the sound of his voice, to be the captain. 

“Why can’t you throw me a bundle? I’ll return 


92 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


them before I bear away in the morning. I haven’t 
heard from Old England for over three months.” 

‘‘If you’ll come up near enough, I’ll throw you 
some with pleasure.” 

“Ay, ay — I’ll lay up under your quarter, and 
thank you, too.” 

“Careful, my men,” continued Walter, in a low 
tone. “Keep your ears and eyes open. Be sure of 
your footing when you leap.” 

“Look out, or you’ll be afoul of us, ’’ shouted the 
Englishman, who had just come up with a package 
of newspapers. 

“Starboard your helm, quick!” exclaimed Nixon, 
turning to the man at the wheel. Then he added, in 
an undertone, “Keep your luff!” 

“Good heavens, sir,” cried the alarmed captain, 
“that lubber of yours hasn’t put up his helm ! Look 
out!” 

The words were hardly out of the Englishman’s 
mouth before there was a slight shock as the two 
brigs touched. 

‘‘Leap!” uttered Walter, and before the mono- 
syllable had died away, he was upon the British 
deck, and Jake Maynard was by his side; and al- 
most simultaneously with his own footfall were 
those of his picked boarders. 

The trunk of the forecastle companion-way closed 
with a slide, and it was instantly secured, but the 
attention at the cabin was not necessary, for there 
was no one in it. 

“Why — captain — what means this?” uttered the 
Englishman, in half frantic tones. 

“Don’t you see, my dear sir? You are prisoners.’^ 

“Eh! What? Prisoners? I don’t — really ” 

“Oh, it’s simple as daylight,” interrupted Walter, 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


93 


who could not avoid smiling at the captain’s perplex- 
ity. “You are fairly trapped.” 

“But, sir, we are Englishmen, and this is an Eng- 
lish store-brig.” 

“And we, sir, are Yankees, and that craft along- 
side is a Yankee privateer. Now, do you under- 
stand?” 

For a full minute the dumfounded Englishman 
gazed half vacantly into Walter’s face. At first the 
thing seemed incredible, but gradually a sense of the 
reality came over his mind, and he turned his head 
toward the transport. 

“Beware!” uttered Walter, comprehending in a 
moment the man’s design. “If you open your 
mouth to give an alarm you die on the instant, and 
so does any man who attempts it.” And as he spoke 
he gave emphasis to his words by raising a cocked 
pistol. The poor captain’s jaw fell at the sight of 
the cold iron, and for an instant he shuddered. 

“Then I am really a prisoner?” he pronounced at 
length, in slow, measured tones, but with a deep 
spice of mental anguish; “and you are all Yankee 
privateersmen ?” 

“You speak of the matter just exactly as it 
stands,” returned Walter, and then turning to 
Baker, who still stood near him, he said: 

“Man the main-braces, sir, and lay the main-top- 
sail aback as soon as the mainsail is clewed up. Be 
sure and move the yards very carefully, so that 
there shall be no noise. Now, who’ll go aloft and 
blow out that light at the fore-truck?” 

Half a dozen responded. Nixon selected the one 
who was the lightest, and bade him be careful and 
keep abaft of the lantern until the light was out. 

“You don’t expect you’re going to get off with this 


94 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


brig, do you?’’ asked the Englishman, as a shade of 
hope passed over his countenance. 

‘‘Of course I do,” returned Walter. 

“You’ll do more than I think you will, if you do,” 
the captain said ; but it was spoken in a forced tone. 

“Now I think, my dear sir, that the hardest part 
of the job is done. I’ve run alongside of an English 
frigate, held quite a chat with her officers, passed 
the time of day with a transport full of British sol- 
diers, and then boarded one of the frip^ate’s charges, 
taken all hands prisoners, and made myself at home 
on her deck. What do you think of that?” 

“I think you are a set of thieving, darkness-loving 
scamps,” returned the captain. 

“Oh, lor’ sakes— don’t,” drawled old Maynard, 
who stood near. “You’ll hurt our feelin’s terrible.” 

The Englishman was not without common sense, 
and he saw that at anything like anger or black- 
guardism he should get the worst of it ; so he deter- 
mined to keep quiet and trust to the possibility of 
either the transport or the frigate’s seeing the game 
that was being played, and stopping the Yankee in 
his course. 

The light at the mast-head had been extinguished, 
and the brig was hove to, and as yet the ruse had 
not been detected by the transport or the frigate. 
The prisoners were ironed, and a guard placed over 
them to prevent any noise, and then the men were 
let up from the forecastle under the injunctive muz- 
zles of half a dozen pistols which had been taken 
from the small arm-chest of the prize; for though 
Nixon would not have had one of them fired, yet he 
knew that their silent language would be impres- 
sive. 

At fifteen minutes before nine o’clock, Mr. Baker 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


95 


had been placed in charge of the prize, with a crew 
of twenty men, and the rest went back to their own 
vessel, taking the prisoners with them. The lights 
of the frigate and transport were nearly lost in the 
distance, and still they seemed ignorant of what had 
transpired. 

It was just eleven o’clock when a low, rumbling 
sound came booming over the waters, and soon 
another, in quick succession, like the mutterings of 
distant thunder. 

‘T guess the frigate’s discovered her loss,” said 
Maynard. 

‘‘Yes,” returned Nixon, with a smile, “but I think 
’twill be some time before she discovers the thing 
she has lost.” 

One or two more guns were heard, but the sound 
was hardly perceptible, and when at length the 
moon arose, Nixon swept his glass along the hori- 
zon, but the frigate was nowhere to be seen. Next 
morning the privateer and her prize were on the 
course for Newburyport. 


96 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


CHAPTER XL 

THE HOMELESS. 

Let US leave the privateer and her prize to get 
through the night as best they can, while we look 
into the house of the old Tory. 

It was in the evening, and Silas Ryan was away 
from home. Within the small kitchen sat Helen 
and Gideon, the former engaged in knitting, and 
the latter reading a small English newspaper. To 
have seen Helen Ryan's fingers ply the busy needles, 
one would never have supposed that she was utterly 
blind ! but industry and perseverance had rewarded 
her with the ability to do much of useful labor, and, 
when her brother was away, labor of some kind was 
all that made her life bearable. 

‘‘How dismal this cold wind sounds,’' murmured 
Helen, with a shudder. 

“It does, indeed," returned her brother, in a half 
abstracted manner. 

“It seems dull and gloomy here," continued the 
blind girl, as she cast her head around as though 
she could see what she felt. 

“It is gloomy," uttered Gideon, in a tone of ear- 
nestness that made his companion start. 

“And do you, too, feel sad?" 

“Ay, my sister." 

“And what makes you so?" 

“Much, much, Helen." 

“Then tell it to me, and I will soothe your troubled 
spirit. I will be cheerful, my brother, cheerful as 
those birds that sing beneath my window in the 
summer days, if it will make you more happy." 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


97 


‘‘Oh, Helen, Helen, may God bless you!” ejacu- 
lated Gideon, as he threw his arms around his sis- 
ter’s neck and kissed her. 

Then he drew his chair to her side, and taking her 
hand in his own, he continued, in a low, meaning 
tone: 

“The load that lies now upon my heart cannot be 
removed so long as this roof covers me. To see you 
happy would give me joy, but even that boon is not 
left me.” 

'It-*?' 

“I will try and be happy, Gideonr^ . 

“And thus make yourself the mor#feiserable and 
unhappy. No, no, Helen — there is no happiness for 
either of us beneath this roof. As well might a lamb 
rest in peace within the den of a wolf. This is a 
traitor’s home, and its very atmosphere hangs about 
my soul with a leaden weight. This house is a foul 
blot upon the soil that gave us birth. It is like a 
bear’s den in a husbandman’s pasture.” 

Helen’s hand trembled, but she made no reply to 
her brother’s remarks. 

“Helen,” he continued, in a half -hushed whisper, 
“do you love Silas Ryan?” 

The blind girl conveyed her left hand to her brow, 
and a painful struggle went on in her bosom. 

“Do you remember that command of the Lord that 
you have read to me from the Bible?” she asked, at 
length. 

“What is it?” 

“Wherein we are commanded to love and honor 
our parents.” 

“Ay, I remember it; but do you suppose God 
meant that we should honor wicked parents?” 

“Their wickedness makes them no less our pa- 
rents.” 


98 


THE iA.NKEE CHAMPION. 


‘‘But tell me, Helen, do you, can you, love the 
man whom you call father? Can you find it in your 
heart to honor him?’’ 

“Do not ask me such a question,” urged Helen, in 
a plaintive tone. “I would not sin, even against 
such a parent. If he does wrong, that ptiakes no ex- 
cuse for us.” 

“But even God cannot love such a man,” re- 
sponded Gideon. 

“He does not love the sin, but yet he loves the sin- 
ner, for that sinner is his own child.” 

“Then suppose some being that was no child of 
God — some being of darkness born—should sin, and 
even turn his hand against the Supreme Being, how 
then? Could God love him?” 

“If he had the love of mortals, of course he could 
not.” 

“Then,” continued the boy, in a lower and more 
impressive tone, “suppose Silas Ryan was not our 
father.” 

The blind girl started and uttered a low cry. 

“Suppose Silas Ryan was not our father!” re- 
peated Gideon. 

‘ ‘What mean you, brother ? Speak ! There is some- 
thing in your tones, in your manner, that gives a 
strange power to your words. Do you speak lightly, 
or have you a meaning?” 

“I have a meaning, Helen.” 

“And what is it? Oh, it cannot be that my dream 
of years is true!” 

“What was your dream?” 

The boy passed his arm around his sister’s neck as 
he spoke, and drew her head upon his bosom, 

“What was your dream, Helen?” 

“Brother, I have dreamed that I could see, and 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


99 


my father has come to me and spoken kind words, 
and smiled upon me.” 

“Well?” 

“That man was not Silas Eyan!” 

“You never told me of this before.” 

“No, because it was a mere phantasy of the brain 
—a dream-answer to my constant living wishes.” 

“Helen, that vision may have been a phantasy, 
but it was a true one. Silas Eyan is not our father !” 

“Say that again ! Oh, say it again !” 

“I tell you truly. The hard-hearted traitor is not 
the man from whose veins we drew our blood of 
life.” 

“How know you this? Oh, make not that assur- 
ance upon a light foundation.” 

“I do not, my sister. Listen : for a long time I 
have been able to see that which was hidden from 
you. I have often wondered why Eyan kept old 
Luke, and fed and clothed him, when there was lit- 
tle or nothing for him to do ; but gradually, as I 
grew older, I learned to read men’s thoughts by 
their looks, and I soon became convinced that Luke 
held a vast power over the man we have called father. 
I have heard words dropped between them that set 
my suspicions on the rack, and at length, three 
days ago, I had confirmation strong. Silas Eyan 
would have killed me with his own hand ! It was on 
the morning that you told me he had thrown you 
upon the fioor.” 

Helen trembled like an aspen, and clung closer to 
her brother ; but she spoke not, for she was speech- 
less with horror. 

“Do not fear,” urged Gideon, in a soothing tone, 
“for Luke has sworn to protect me, and I know that 
the unnatural man dares not cross him, though he is 


100 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


nominally his master.*’ And thereupon the boy 
went on and told bis sister all that had transpired 
on the morning that Ryan sought his life. 

“I know now that my soul has not lied to me,” 
she said. ^‘It could never yearn toward that man as 
should the soul of a child toward a parent ; but it 
has ever loathed him, though I have tried to keep 
the feeling back.” 

‘‘He is to be loathed,” uttered the boy ; and then, 
while a convulsive shudder passed through his 
frame he added: “My sister, there’s blood upon that 
man’s hands!” 

A stifled murmur, like the moaning of the wind 
through the cypress tree, burst from the blind girl’^ 
lips. 

“It may be our father’s blood!” whispered Gid- 
eon. 

“God have mercy!” ejaculated Helen. 

“He will have mercy— I know he will.” 

The clock that stood in the corner ticked loudly 
and steadily, but its pulsations were no more appa- 
rent than were the beatings of those two hearts. On 
ticked the clock, and for ten minutes its hands 
traveled in a silence broken only by its own time- 
telling voice, and the moan of the night-wind. 

“Helen,” said the boy. 

The blind girl started, as if from a dream. 

“We cannot remain here.” 

“But whither shall we go?” 

“Anywhere. We will live in some dark cave 
rather than to remain here. But we need not fear, 
for there are open and generous hearts enough to 
bid us welcome to a better place than this. I have 
two good hands, sister, and I can surely do enough 
to support us both. We are indeed homeless, now.” 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


101 


“I can work, too, Gideon. We will go.” 

“I will first see Luke, and try to get from him 
some knowledge of the secret he possesses, for I 
would know more of this matter. We will go at 
once after that.” 

“We will wait a little while— perhaps a week,” 
said Helen. 

“No — why should we?” 

“I may never see Walter Nixon again.” 

The fair girl spoke in a trembling tone, and her 
sightless eyes were turned toward the fioor. The 
brother gazed earnestly upon her, and, young as he 
was, his tender soul comprehended the whole truth. 

“Captain Nixon will always be known to the 
American people,” he whispered; “and wherever 
we may be, we shall surely hear of him when he ar- 
rives in port. I will find means to convey to him a 
knowledge of the whereabouts of Helen Eyan.” 

The poor blind girl blushed as she thanked her 
brother, and she promised to follow him as soon as 
he thought best. 

Whatever he may have wished to say beyond 
that was prevented for the present by the entrance 
of Silas Eyan, and at a rough command from him 
the brother and sister tremblingly sought their re- 
spective chambers. 


102 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


CHAPTER XII. 

THE FATAL CAST OP LOTS. 

Four of the old Tory’s league entered the house 
with him, and as they took their seats around the 
fire, one might have seen by their faces that they 
were far from being pleased with what had trans- 
pired. Dow and Goss both of them pulled out their 
black pipes, and dipping them into the embers, they 
commenced to smoke. Baxter’s smooth face was 
as Pharisaical in its expression as ever, and Wimper 
gazed around upon his companions with a deep, 
cunning look. Silas Ryan’s eyes were fastened upon 
the fire, and he seemed almost afraid to trust them 
anywhere else. 

“There’s no mistake about it,” said Dow, taking 
his pipe from his mouth, and speaking as though it 
was the continuation of a conversational subject 
that had been commenced before they entered the 
house. “Mason must have made a failure.” 

“A most decided failure for the present,” re- 
sponded Baxter. 

“But he may yet accomplish his purpose,” said 
Ryan, in a hopeful tone, without taking his eyes 
from the fire. 

“I hope so,” added Goss; “but I can’t say that I 
see much hopes of it. ” 

“Egad, it can’t be that he’s got nabbed, can it?” 
uttered Dow, seeming to draw the thoughts from a 
cloud of tobacco smoke that was curling above his 
head. 

“Of course not,” exclaimed Ryan, with sudden 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


103 


energy, at the same time casting his eyes about 
upon his companions. “Mason was too keen for 
that.’’ 

“But not too cool,” said Wimper. 

The rest all looked at the half-breed, and upon the 
mind of Silas Ryan the meaning of that remark at 
once opened itself. He was moved by a deadly fear, 
for well he knew that all this disappointment had 
its origin in his own family. 

“I think Mason would not expose himself,” he 
said at length, in an uncertain, hesitating tone. 

“Mason chose his own course,” observed the In- 
dian; “and I was willing he should follow it; but 
he was not the man for such a job. He’s altogether 
too confident in his own rough strength and physi- 
cal courage, and too hot-headed and ugly, by half. 
Now I hope you don’t think those Yankees are a set 
of fools ; if they had been they wouldn’t have taken 
that brig-of-war. Why can’t you lay your plans ac- 
cording to your strength, and with some regard to 
the strength of other parties ! I serve the British 
because they pay me in gold, but their gold don’t 
make me blind enough to think that they are ever 
going to subdue these colonies. While there’s 
money to be made, I shall keep making it, and I’ll 
be faithful, too, to those I serve. Now open your 
eyes. If I had a ton of gold, I’d wager it that Mason 
is dead.” 

“Dead?” repeated the others, in a breath. 

“Yes.” 

“But what makes you think so?” asked Ryan, 
turning pale. 

“Didn’t the captain of the sloop-of-war tell you 
that he saw the blaze, and heard the report of a pis- 
tol, or musket, in the brig’s fore-rigging?” 


104 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


‘‘Yes.’’ 

“And what do you suppose that was for, if it 
wasn’t for some traitor?” 

“Egad! I b’lieve Wimper’s right,” uttered Dow, 
as he knocked the ashes from his pipe. 

“I hope he ain’t dead,” fell from Ryan’s lips. 

“I tell you, Silas Ryan, it’s past hoping for,” said 
Wimper. “Mason put his head into a den of. rattle- 
snakes, and he has waked some of them up before 
this time.” 

“Well, perhaps it is so,” reluctantly admitted 
Ryan. “But the privateer may be taken yet. The 
English captain told me he should cruise along the 
coast till after the store-ships and their convoy had 
got in ; and he may yet fall in with the brig.” 

“That’s a faint hope, though it may be realized,” 
said Baxter. 

“But it won’t bring Mason to life, nor remove from 
us the imputation of treachery,” muttered the half- 
breed. 

“Treachery!” repeated Ryan. 

“Yes,” returned Wimper. “Some of those prison- 
ers will ere long find means to communicate with 
the commander-in-chief, and they’ll tell him that 
their brig was taken from them through the means 
of a secret signal and countersign that was alone 
given to us.” 

Silas Ryan clutched his hands together in nervous 
agitation. 

“Now, what answer shall we make when we are 
interrogated?” continued Wimper. 

“Egad, we shall tell him ’twas Ryan’s boy,” re- 
plied Dow. 

“Yes,” resumed Wimper; “and furthermore, that 
that boy knows all our secrets — that he has not only 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


105 


our own lives in his hands, but the lives of half the 
Tories in this section. Silas Ryan, did not that boy 
confess to you that he betrayed us?’' 

‘^Yes,” groaned Ryan. 

‘^And did he not boldly avow himself a friend of 
our enemies?” 

^‘He said he owed no allegiance to the king,” 
equivocated Ryan. 

“Then why is he alive?” asked Whimper, as he 
fixed his glistening eyes upon the Tory chief. 

Ryan hesitated and stammered ; but at length he 
hit upon an expedient and plausible lie. 

“I tried to kill him, but my father’s heart failed 
me. Gentlemen, you do not know the sympathies of 
a father’s heart.” 

“Stuff I” uttered Goss. 

“Egad, I’m a father,” said Dow; “but head me 
up in an empty brandy pipe if I wouldn’t blow the 
brains out of any child that should betray me or my 
friends.” 

“That’s the only true doctrine,” rejoined Wimper. 
“ Gideon Ryan has the power to send us all to the 
gallows, and I know he has the will. Now he must 
die, and you know it, if you be his father. You got 
us to join you, and we solemnly pledged our lives 
for each other’s safety. You must kill that boy be- 
fore we leave the house to-night ! Shall it not be so, 
gentlemen?” 

“Yes, yes. He must die.” 

“Friend Ryan,” said Baxter, in a smooth, oily 
tone, and with an encouraging smile upon his fea- 
tures, “you must kill him. Do not let your father’s 
heart overcome your manhood. Remember that you 
are a royal subject, and forget that you are a 
parent.” 


106 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


‘‘But he is still my son/ ^ groaned the arch hypo- 
crite, vainly endeavoring to make his deadly fear 
appear to be paternal feeling. 

“Forget that he is your son, and remember only 
that he has betrayed us all,*’ continued the smooth- 
faced fiend. “The blow can be easily struck — only 
the stroke that is necessary to kill a pig — that's all.” 

“Must I do this deed? Must I slay my own fiesh 
and blood?” 

“Youmust.” 

A sudden gleam of sickly hope broke over the 
sinister face of Ryan. 

“Are we not all equally interested in this affair?” 
he asked. “Are we not all equally betrayed and in- 
jured?” 

“Of course,” returned Baxter. 

Ryan cast a furtive glance about the room, as if 
he expected to see the ghost of Luke Soper. Then 
he moved his chair nearer to his companions, and in 
a low, husky voice, he said : 

“We have agreed that he who should betray us 
should die. My son has done that thing, and I give 
him up to his fate. But there has been nothing said 
as to who should be the executioner. Gideon has 
forfeited his life, for he has become a traitor, and in 
becoming a traitor he ceases to be my son. Now, it 
devolves upon me to kill him no more than it does 
upon the rest of you?” 

“Well, and what do you propose to do?” asked 
Wimper. 

“Why,” returned Ryan, “as we have never set- 
tled upon who should remove our enemies, suppose 
we cast lots to see who shall do the present deed?” 

The men gazed at each other for several moments 
in thoughtful silence. This was something new 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


107 


in their experience, and they were not exactly pre- 
pared for it. 

‘‘If it falls upon me, I’ll do it without hesitation,” 
continued Ryan. 

“Well, I’m agreed,” said Baxter; “I’m willing to 
give the father that chance.” 

“So am I,” added Goss. 

“And I,” said Wimper. 

“Egad, and so am I,” uttered Dow. 

Ryan hoped he should not be drawn, for then the 
deed would be done, and he could swear to Luke 
that he did it not, and he could swear, too, that he 
had no hand in it. Then the man he so much feared 
would have no cause for vengeance against him. 

“I will cut five strips of paper,” said Ryan, “and 
the one who draws the shortest shall do the deed.” 

“No,” returned Wimper, “for you might mark 
them. I have a better plan. Give me five pieces of 
blank paper, and I will number them, one, two, 
three, four and five, and on one of them I will write 
the word ‘knife!’ Then you shall each choose a 
number, commencing in order as you now sit, and 
he who chooses the one with that word on it, does 
the deed before we leave the house. Of course you 
will all choose first, and then if the number is left 
to meTast I will do it. Do you understand? 

“Now, we’ll begin,” continued Wimper, as he 
took his seat. 

The formal manner in which the matter had 
reached its present crisis had given it a deeper color, 
and the members of the league began to look upon 
it in a more serious light. They were anxious and 
uneasy. Baxter alone remained cool and unmoved. 
That smooth face of his was rubbed down and pol- 
ished with the subtle grit of his own stony heart, 


108 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


and nothing could move it but malignant triumph, 
or deadly fear. He knew no power of conscience. 

“Silas Ryan, it is your first turn!” said Wimper, 
as he held the pieces close in his hand. “Choose 
your number.” 

Ryan shook like a freezing child. 

“Three!” fell from his lips in a hoarse whisper, 
and he gazed intently upon the lips of the Indian to 
catch the first movement they should make. 

“Blank!” pronounced Wimper, drawing the num- 
ber and throwing it upon the table. 

“Luke can’t say I did it!” murmured Silas Ryan 
to himself, as he sank back in his chair and let forth 
a long breath that had been confined in his bosom. 

“Goss, you come next.” 

“Well, I’ll take five,” said Goss, with a slight 
treniulousness in his tone. 

A pin might have been heard to drop in any part 
of the room, as all eyes were turned anxiously upon 
the Indian. 

The number was drawn and laid by the side of 
the other. It was a blank, 

“Dow, your turn next,” said Wimper, as he held 
up the pieces. 

“Egad, gentlemen,” uttered Dow, while a pallor 
actually manifested itself upon his red, bloated face, 
“I’ll forfeit the next ten pounds I get, if you’ll let 
me off.” 

“No, no — go on.” 

He gazed hard at the ends of the three papers, 
and, villain as he was, he shuddered fearfully at the 
thought of being obliged to dip his hands in the 
blood of the boy. He could boast, for it was his 
nature, and he could deceive, for it was natural to 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


109 


his heart, but he trembled and turned pale at the 
sight of blood. 

‘‘I’ll take one!” he gasped. 

“Blank!” pronounced Wimper, drawing the slip. 
“Now, Baxter, it lies between you and me. Two and 
four are left. Which do you take?” 

“I shall take four,” returned Baxter. 

The lot was drawn and laid upon the table, but 
the Indian did not speak, for every eye at once 
caught the fatal word. Baxter had drawn the knife ! 

“Well, it seems I am the man,” he said, with as 
much unconcern as though he had been deputized 
to wring the neck of a fowl. “I am ready for this 
job. Ryan, show me the way.” 

As the smooth-faced villain spoke, he drew a knife 
from his bosom, and arose from his chair. 

“You can’t miss the place,” said Ryan. “The boy 
sleeps in the room right straight ahead from the top 
of the stairs. Don’t turn to the right nor left.” 

“But you’d better go with me to make sure.” 

“No, no,” said the host, “there’s no need of it; 
and besides it might wake up the young traitor. 
You couldn’t miss it if you tried.” 

Baxter was not particular, and taking the candle 
in his hand, he turned tOe^he door. 

“Be careful of your light. Don’t wake him,” 
urged Ryan, in nervous accents. “I wouldn’t have 
him cry out.” 

“I’ll look to that,” returned Baxter. “The thing 
shall be done quickly.” 

“You’d better take off your shoes,” suggested 
Wimper. 

The assassin removed his heavy -shoes, and in a 
moment more he passed from the room. Those who 
were left behind could hear the slight creaking of 


no 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


the stairs as he ascended them, and as the sound 
died away, they hardly breathed a breath that could 
have moved a feather. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

THE KNIFE-BLOW— -THE STARTLING DISCOVERY. 

With a stealthy, cat-like tread Baxter approached 
the room where slept the boy. He stopped at the 
door, and bending his ear close to the hole where 
the tongue of the latch went through, he listened. 
He could hear the low, steady breathing of his vic- 
tim, and he felt assured that he was asleep. 

Cautiously the Tory raised the latch and pushed 
open the door. He shaded the light with his hand, 
and crept in, and after standing for a moment near 
the bed, he gradually let the blaze of the candle 
shine upon the face of the sleeper. Gideon Ryan 
slept on, all unconscious of the presence of the 
night-fiend that stood within his chamber. There 
was a soft, melancholy look upon his features, and 
his countenance seemed to vary its tones and ex- 
pressions. His lips moved, and the word ‘^sister’’ 
was whispered, and then a smile broke over his pale 
face. 

Baxter started, and shaded his light. He moved 
not, but for a moment he listened. 

‘‘He only dreams,’^ he murmured to himself at 
length, and once more he withdrew his hand from 
the light and set the candle upon a chair, near the 
head of the bed. 

“YouTl betray no more men!’’ half audibly mut- 
tered Baxter, as he seemed calculating the exact 
position of the boy’s heart. “You’ve done too much 
now.” 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


Ill 


Baxter did not hear the slight rustling at the foot 
of the bed, nor did he see the form that crept from 
beneath it, for his back was turned that way. He 
put forth his left hand, as if to stop his mouth, and 
then he raised his knife. 

In another moment the blow would have been 
struck, but there was one present who had exactly 
calculated that moment himself. 

Luke Soper sprang like a cat upon the black- 
hearted villain, placed his big hand upon his mouth, 
and drew the head back. At the same instant 
Luke’s right hand fell with a heavy blow, and the 
knife he held was buried to the hilt in the Tory-as- 
sassin's heart. The faithful protector of the boy 
still held his hand upon Baxter’s mouth, and 
though the dying man struggled convulsively, yet 
he was held so firmly that he made no noise. 

The first movement of Luke, as he sprang upon 
the intended muiderer, which was a low, shuffling 
sound, had slightly disturbed the boy, and just as 
his preserver arose from the corpse, he started up in 
his bed. 

— sh! Keep perfectly still, Gideon; don’t make 
any noise. Up, quick! and dress yourself.” 

‘Ts that you, Luke?” 

‘^Yes, yes; get up and dress.” 

‘‘What’s the matter?” And the poor boy rubbed 
his eyes to assure himself that he was awake. 

“Your life ain’t safe a moment longer in this 
house. Don’t make a breath of noise. Get up and 
look here.” 

“Good heavens I Luke what is this?” 

sh! Don’t you see? It’s Baxter. Look in his 
hand. That knife was for you. They sent him up 
from below to kill you, for they’ve sworn that you 


112 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


shall die to-night. You ain’t safe here a moment. 
Quick! dress yourself and. come with me.” 

“But what ” 

“Don’t stop to ask a question^ but come. I’ll tell 
you all when I have time. They’ll be up here before 
long, when they see that Baxter don’t come back. 
On with your clothes.” 

The boy seemed to comprehend it all, for he slid 
noiselessly from his bed, and in a minute he was 
ready. 

“Come, we will go out by the window.” 

Gideon took a step forward, and then he hesi- 
tated. 

“But my sister. Oh, Luke, I cannot leave her. Let 
her go with us.” 

“No, no; I’ll bring her to you. ^ We haven’t a mo- 
ment to lose now. ^They won’t hurt poor Helen. 
Come, come; I declare to you that I’ll bring your 
sister to you as soon as you are safe yourself.” 

Gideon hesitated no longer ; but casting one look 
upon the cold corpse of the Tory, and breathing a 
silent prayer for his blind sister, he stepped to the 
window. 

“ ’Tisn’t very high, this window ain’t,” whispered 
Luke, as he lifted the boy in his arms after the sash 
had been thrown up. “I’ll lower you down by the 
hands, and then you can drop to the ground without 
hurting you.” 

It was but a moment’s work to place Gideon upon 
the frosty ground, and it took but a moment more 
for Luke to gain a place by his side. 

“Here, Gideon, take this pistol. It’s got two balls 
in it. You may want it. Come.” 

As Luke spoke, he took his young charge by the 
hand, and hastened off toward the woods in a south- 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


113 


westerly direction, and in a few moments they were 
buried in the darkness of the forest. 

Let us now return to the Tories. For a long time 
after Baxter left them they sat in a profound si- 
lence, with their ears turned anxiously toward the 
door. 

'‘Hark!’' whispered Wimper, who sat nearest the 
door, and whose quick ear caught a light shuffling 
sound above. 

"Has he struck?” asked Eyan, whose face, by the 
sickly glare of the few embers that reached above 
the ashes, looked a livid, ghastly hue. 

" — sh — ha ! That’s a knife-stroke I” 

The Tories started, as if from a trance. The In- 
dian stole from his chair, and placed his ear at the 
crack of the door. 

"There’ll be no noise,” he uttered, after he had 
remained a moment in his new position. "I can 
hear the death rattle. The blow’s been struck with 
a sure hand I” 

Five minutes passed away like so many hours, 
but the assassin returned not. The Tories watched 
the door most anxiously. 

"It’s strange he does not come,” said Wimper. 

"What can he be about?” wondered Dow. 

"Are you sure you heard him strike?” 

"Yes,” returned the Indian. "You don’t suppose 
he’d have been all this time doing nothing, do you?” 

"Of course not; but egad, he’s been a long time 
about what he has done.” 

The old clock in the corner ticked away three 
minutes more. 

"Ryan,” said Wimper, "you’d better go up and 
see what’s the matter. Baxter can’t have been all 


114 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


this time doing the job. Heavens ! what is the mat- 
ter?’’ 

No wonder the Indian asked the question, for 
Ryan had started from his chair, and he looked the 
very picture of frightful horror. His hair stood half 
erect, the eye-balls were glaring wildly and starting 
from their sockets, and the mouth was opened with 
a gasping expression. 

‘Tor heaven’s sake, what ails you, Ryan?” 

The Tory started and stared vacantly at his inter- 
locutor. With a powerful effort he brought his gift 
of speech to aid him. 

“My boy is dead!” he muttered, with consummate 
skill at effect. 

“Well,” said Wimper, “you can go up and see 
what has become of Baxter.” 

“You go up with me, Wimper.” 

A scornful smile broke over the Indian’s face, but 
he at once consented to go. 

The two men ascended the stairs, and cautiously 
they entered the chamber. The light was still burn- 
ing upon the chair, and it threw its flickering beams 
full upon the prostrate form of Baxter. The Tories 
started back in horror and astonishment. 

“Good heavens, Ryan! what is this?” exclaimed 
Wimper, as he at length sprang forward and knelt 
by the side of the fallen man. “It’s Baxter! He’s 
dead as a log, with a knife-blow in his heart!” 

“The boy did it,” gasped Ryan, without daring to 
go near the corpse. 

“The boy never did it ! His arm never struck that 
blow. ’Twas a man did that, and a strange one, 
too!” 

The first exclamation from Wimper had brought 
the other two men up from below. 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


115 


‘‘Egad, who’s that?” uttered Dow. 

“It’s Baxter, as I’m a living man,” cried Goss, 
who had pressed forward. 

“Silas Ryan, who did this?” sternly asked Wim- 
per. “It must have been a powerful man, for this 
body was held with a strength greater than yours 
or mine— a strength almost superhuman.” 

“How d’ye know?” asked Dow, through whose 
thick head a comprehensive idea was never guilty 
of working its way without aid. 

“Why, if he had not been held with an arm of 
iron, I should at least have heard a struggle,” re- 
turned the Indian, whose quick wit was not to be de- 
ceived. “Ryan, who*did it?” 

Silas Ryan gathered all his energies for one power- 
ful effort. He knew that he could not deceive his 
companions into the belief that Gideon had done the 
deed, and he resolved to tell a part of the truth. He 
at length succeeded in forcing back from his coun- 
tenance most of the terror-marks that had dwelt 
there, and stepping nearer to where the corpse lay, 
he said : 

“I think I know the truth, gentlemen. That half- 
foolish fellow who has lived with me must have 
been in the chamber.” 

“He does not sleep here with the boy, does he?” 

“Ho, his bed is in the garret.” 

“Then how came he here?” asked the Indian, with 
keenly burning eyes, as he arose to his feet. 

Ryan hesitated, but an expedient soon came to his 
aid. 

“It must be that Gideon told him something about 
my threatening to kill him the other day. The 
clown has always been fond of the boy, and no doubt 
he has had his eyes on him ever since to protect him. 


116 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


‘^Silas Ryan, did you know of this? Had you no 
idea that that man was here?’’ 

‘‘As God is my judge I did not. I call on Heaven 
to strike me dead this moment if I did not sincerely 
believe that Baxter would find the boy alone.” 

Ryan spoke the truth for once, and Wimper be- 
lieved him, though he showed by his countenance 
that his confidence in the old man was not un- 
bounded. 

“Egad, that’s a pretty mess,” uttered Dow, who 
had a remarkable faculty of seeing things that had 
opened themselves to his vision. “There’s two of 
our best men gone to never-come-back-again.” 

“Yes,” quickly returned Wimper; “and we must 
nab that Soper and the boy, or we shall all be likely 
to go the same way. Let’s go below, Ryan; get us 
a lantern as quickly as possible. We’ll leave the 
body here till we come back. They must be taken 
to-night.” 

The party at once repaired to the kitchen, and in 
a few moments a lantern was procured. A lighted 
candle was placed in it, and Wimper took it in his 
hand. He was not the ostensible leader of the 
league, but he was by far the quickest witted of the 
lot, and as none objected, he took upon himself the 
responsibility of conducting affairs for the present. 

“Are your pistols all loaded and carefully 
primed?” asked Wimper, as soon as they were ready 
to go. 

“Yes,” they answered. 

“Then let’s see if we can make out any tracks of 
the runaways.” 

The party passed out of doors, and Wimper led 
the way to the end of the house. Directly beneath 
the window of Gideon’s chamber he held his lantern 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


117 


down to the ground and began to examine the 
marks. 

‘"I’m right,’’ he uttered. “Here are the deep prints 
of the feet of a man and boy where they landed from 
the window.” 

“Now, which way ’d they go, I wonder?” said 
Dow, who felt it necessary to say something. 

“We’ll soon find that,” returned Wimper, at the 
same time moving slowly away from the building 
with the lantern toward the ground. “Here are 
their tracks as plain as daylight on the frost. Come 
along this way.” 

Luke and Gideon had indeed left pretty plain 
footprints behind them in the frost, and the quick 
eye of the Indian readily detected them. At length 
the party reached the point where the fugitives had 
entered the wood, and here, of course, the tracks 
were lost. 

“Now,” said Wimper, “we must separate. Let us 
look sharp and keep our ears open. They have evi- 
dently calculated to strike the river, and Eyan and 
myself will spread that way. You two open to the 
northward farther. The boy cannot make his way 
so fast through the thick wood as we can, and if we 
are sharp we may catch them. They can’t have over 
fifteen minutes the start. If you see them, fire, and 
at the first report the others will fiy to the spot.” 

“Egad, I’ll fire,” valiantly uttered Dow, as he 
pulled his coat collar up about his ears. 

“But mind that you shoot the man first,” added 
Wimper, “for the boy can be easily taken after 
that.” 

“We’ll shoot ’em both.” 

“Now for it, men. Quick is the word. If they es- 
cape us we are lost.” 


118 THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 

Thus speaking, Wimper dove into the woods, and 
the others followed his example. They had hit the 
true course, and could hardly fail of coming upon 
the pair they sought. 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION, 


119 


CHAPTER XIV. 

THE SLOOP-OP- WAR. 

The second morning that dawned after the cap- 
ture of the store-brig found Walter Nixon in his 
berth. He had been on deck most of the night, 
having been called up by the appearance of a sail 
which was coming down from the northward, and 
which proved to be nothing but a Plymouth fisher- 
man that had ventured out. The brig was bound 
directly for Newburyport, and heading west-nor’- 
west, with the wind northeast, and not over seventy- 
five miles from the coast. 

Nixon was suddenly aroused from an uneasy, 
wakeful slumber by the hum of hurried voices on 
deck, and in a moment more Cummings came into 
the cabin. 

“What’s the matter?” asked the captain, leaping 
from his berth and smoothing down his vest. He 
had not undressed. 

“There’s a sail in sight to the southward.” 

“Perhaps it’s the one that run down last night.” 

“No, sir; she’s standing this way.” 

“Have you made her out?” 

“Yes. She was hull up when the day broke. 
She’s a sloop-of-war, and British, of course.” 

“Zounds! that’s bad!” uttered Nixon. “How does 
she take the wind?” 

“She’s a little free on the starboard tack.” 

“And running for us?” 

“Yes. She’s coming up rapidly.” 

By this time Nixon was ready to go on deck, and 


120 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


buckling his faithful old sword about him, and tak- 
ing his glass, he sprang up the ladder. 

Right abeam, not more than a mile and a half dis- 
tant, loomed up the same vessel that had blockaded 
the port of Newbury port when the brig ran out. 
Nixon knew her the moment he brought his glass to 
bear on her. 

‘‘That’s a bad fix, isn’t it?” said Cummings, as he 
stood gazing upon the sloop-of-war. 

“Rather bad, I must confess,” returned Nixon. 

“You’ll have your turn now, if I am not much 
mistaken.” 

The officers turned suddenly upon the last speaker, 
and found it to be the captain of the store-brig. He 
had the privilege of the deck, and having heard the 
movements of the crew he had come up from his 
berth. 

“What d’ye s’pose is goin’ to give us our turn?” 
asked Maynard. 

“That sloop-of-war,” returned the Englishman, 
while his eyes sparkled with satisfaction. 

“An’ what in thunder d’ye s’pose we care ’bout 
her?” 

“You’ll see when she comes up.” 

“S’pose’n’ she shouldn’t come up, old feller?” 

“She looks like it now, at all events.” 

“So did you look like goin’ into Boston harbor 
afore we took ye.” 

The Englishman winced. 

“We didn’t know you,” he said, “for you wore 
false colors; but that ship does know you, and 
you’ll find it out, too.” 

“We sailed under false colors, did we?” uttered 
Jake, with a provoking look. 

“Yes, you did.” 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


121 


‘‘No, sir. Ain’t this brig ours?” 

“It is as long as you keep it.” 

“An’ that’ll be till after your old hulks are driven 
out of Yankee water. Just put that up in your head 
for a piece of valuable information. An’ now I’d 
just like to ask you if everything we took in this 
brig ain’t ours?” 

“I suppose it is.” 

“An’ so do I. We took them colors, sir, an’ we’ll 
wear ’em just when we are a mind to — though I 
must say it makes us feel kind o’ mean to stand 
under ’em.” 

“You talk well on board of your own vessel; but 
wait till the sloop comes up. She’ll know you.” 

“So she vrill ; but tie me up in reef-knots if I don’t 
believe she’ll wish she never had.” 

“You’ll get some of your conceit taken out of you 
before his majesty’s done with you.” 

“Don’t talk about your dad-rotted old majesty to 
us. We Yankees take folks for just what they are, 
an’ not for what they are called, nor for what they 
think they are themselves.” 

“Sometimes folks have to bear a thing, whether 
they like it or not,” said the Englishman; and with 
that he turned away from the incorrigible old gun- 
ner and approached Nixon. 

“Captain,” he said, with a respectful bow, “I sup- 
pose you will not detain us prisoners on board your 
vessel any longer, will you?” 

“And why not?” asked Nixon. 

“Why, we are not among those who fight against 
you. We are only merchantmen, after all. You 
won’t gain anything by keeping us.” 

“Really, my dear sir, I don’t understand you,” 
said Nixon, with a puzzled look. 


122 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


^^Why, what will be the use in keeping us after 
you have given up your prize? When you call your 
prize-crew back to their own vessel, why not let us 
go back to ours?” 

'‘Give up our prize! Call the prize-crew back I 
What do you mean?” 

"You must be aware that the store-brig cannot get 
away from that sloop-of-war, though this vessel will 
easily outsail her. I suppose, sir, if you want to save 
your own necks, that you will leave the prize to 
shift for herself, and make all the sail you can.” 

"Oho-o-o!” uttered Walter, with a most peculiar 
emphasis; "now I understand you. You think I’m 
going to run away from that fellow?” 

"Certainly.” 

"Ha, ha, ha! Why, I haven’t thought of such a 
thing.” 

"Do you mean to fight her?” 

"You shall see.” 

The poor Englishman was dumfounded. The 
idea that the privateer would face a British sloop- 
of-war was something that had never entered his 
head, and with a countenance upon which were 
blended astonishment and anxiety, watched for the 
result. 

The sloop-of-war was now about a mile distant, 
and directly off the Champion’s lee beam, while the 
prize was off her lee quarter. Nixon hove his main 
topsail aback, and then hailing the store-brig, he 
ordered Baker, who, it will be remembered, had 
charge, to luff and run under the Champion’s stern, 
and stand off to the windward. 

The prize was soon in the desired station, and 
Nixon filled away again. 

"Captain Nixon, do you intend to fight that sloop- 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


123 


of-war?” asked the Englishman, who seemed to 
have some little dislike to being shot at by his own 
countrymen; for he saw by the movements about 
him that some such thing was anticipated. 

“I mean to give her a smell of Yankee powder, 
sir, and a taste of Yankee iron.” 

“You must be a very reckless man, sir.” 

“Look at that, sir.” 

Nixon smiled as he spoke, and at the same time 
significantly pointed toward the long brass gun, 
which old Maynard had put in glittering order. The 
Englishman seemed to understand but about half of 
what the young American meant; but even that 
half gave him food for reflection. 

“Mr. Maynard,” said Nixon, turning to his gun- 
ner, “do you suppose you can make a sure shot with 
that gun?” 

“I can try it, sir. I’ve fired her a good many times 
afore she was put aboard this craft. When she stood 
on the hill I used to take the ticket, sir. I’ve hit the 
bull’s-eye at a hundred rods.” 

“Then get your plaything in working order as 
soon as possible, and we’ll salute that sloop.” 

“Ay, ay, sir,” cried Maynard, as he gladly sprang 
to obey the order. 

“Maynard.” 

•* “Hallo, sir?” 

“Give her only a round shot to commence with.” 

“Ay, ay, sir.” 

The old gunner called the crew of the long-tom 
about him, and in a few moments she was in good 
order. 

“Think you can touch the Englishman at that dis- 
tance?” asked Nixon, as he came up to the gun. 

The old man ran his eye along the surface of the 


124 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


water till he struck the sloop, and after calculating 
for a moment he replied : 

^‘The wind is just exactly in our favor. Couldn’t 
do much at that distance agin the wind, but I guess 
I can now.” 

‘'Then try it. We lay just right for a shot.” 

The English captain began to see now the game 
of the Yankees. He knew that the sloop-of-war only 
carried twenty-four-pound carronades, .and that she 
could not throw a ball two-thirds the distance that 
could be made by the privateer’s long gun. 

‘‘You may fire as soon as you like.” 

“Ay, uy, sir.” 

The gun was primed and leveled, and then taking 
the lighted match in his hand, Maynard watched 
for his chance. The line of his aim struck the sloop’s 
foreyard in the slings. The smoke lifted in season 
to see the shot strike the water just under the Eng- 
lishman’s starboard fore-chains. 

“That was a good shot, Maynard,” said the cap- 
tain. 

“It ought to have been better, sir,” returned the 
old gunner, with a spice of disappointment in his 
tone. 

“Oh, it was good enough. I’ll warrant you the 
sloop-of-war wouldn’t thank you for a better. Load 
her again.” 

Maynard was very careful in charging the piece, 
and again he was ready to fire. 

“Won’t you put up the helm very slowly?” he said 
to the captain. 

The order was given, and as the brig began grad- 
ually to fall off, the old man watched the range 
with a keen eye. 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


125 


‘^Steady, so!’’ he cried; and in a moment more he 
applied the match. 

The first word that was spoken was by the Eng- 
lish captain, who had a place to the windward of 
the gun, and that word was of mingled pain and 
astonishment. Nixon leveled his glass, and found 
that the shot had carried away the bumkin to 
which the fore-tack had been hauled down, and the 
sloop’s foresail was flapping in the wind. 

A hearty cheer broke from the privateer’s crew 
as they saw the result of the shot, and the old man’s 
eyes sparkled with intense satisfaction. 

^‘Rather a dangerous plaything, isn’t it, sir?” re- 
marked Nixon to the English captain. 

The Englishman looked up into Walter’s face, but 
he had nothing to say. 

The sloop-of-war was now nearer, and Maynard 
had a better opportunity to show his skill. He 
loaded his gun with great care, and selected a ball 
that would admit of a snug canvas patch. It fitted 
tightly, and was rammed home. 

‘‘Now, if that ball don’t deceive me. I’ll make it 
tell on that craft,” said the old man, as he took 
sight. 

“Where are you aiming?” 

“Higher than I did afore.” 

Again the long gun belched forth its sheet of 
smoke and flame, and the men anxiously looked for 
the effect of the shot. 

“You made a mistake that time, old man,” said 
the English captain, in a half exulting tone, as the 
smoke cleared away. 

“You didn’t hit, that’s a fact,” added Nixon. 

“Didn’t hit!” uttered the old gunner, in a tone of 
grief, as he looked at the sloop-of-war. 


126 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


‘^No. But that’s nothing. Try again. The Eng- 
lishman hasn’t begun to get near enough yet to do 
anything with his short carronades.” 

‘‘Ha! Didn’t I, though!” suddenly exclaimed 
Maynard, leaping on to the gun-carriage and clap- 
ping his hands in delight. “Just exactly where I 
aimed!” 

All eyes were turned toward the enemy, and the 
meaning of the old man’s exclamation was at once 
apparent. The Englishman’s fore-topmast was seen 
to sway to and fro, and in a few moments it went 
over to leeward, carrying with it topsail, top- gal- 
lant-sail, royal, jib and flying-jib, and completely 
lumbering the deck with its wreck. Of course the 
sloop-of-war flew into the wind and lay utterly un- 
manageable. 

“What d’ye think now, old feller?” uttered May- 
nard, turning toward the Englishman. 

“Why, simply that you’ve won the day.” 

“You are an honest man. Shall I Are again, cap- 
tain?” 

“No. ’Twould be of no use. Of course we can’t 
take her, and I have no wish to kill her men un- 
necessarily.” 

“Oh, I won’t kill any men ; but I do want to give 
her a few more shots. Her mainmast is too tall by 
half.” 

“Well, goon.” 

Maynard patched a round shot, and rammed home 
a chain-shot on top of it. The concussion heeled the 
brig over and made her tremble like a willow bough, 
but the effects of the shot were satisfactory, inas- 
much as they resulted in the total destruction of the 
enemy’s main-topmast rigging. Three more shots 
brought the main-topmast down, and Maynard 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


127 


stuck his match into the tub with a most emphatic 
‘ ‘there V’ 

The crew of the privateer gave nine startling huz- 
zas, and once more the Yankee Champion and her 
prize were on their way undisturbed, leaving the 
sloop-of-war hull down to leeward, bobbing about 
like a water-soaked log. 


128 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


CHAPTEE XV. 

A PAIR OP SECRETS. 

The brig and her prize arrived safely in the har- 
bor of Newburyport, and the occasion was a joyous 
one for the liberty-loving people. The wharves and 
docks were lined with eager spectators, and cheers 
long and loud rang out upon the air. The prize was 
found to be a most valuable one, and it was at once 
placed in the hands of the provincial agents, and 
when disposed of the privateer’s crew found them- 
selves richer than they had anticipated. 

One day, after the business relating to the prize 
had been all disposed of, Nixon descended to his 
cabin in search of Jacob Maynard. The old man sat 
upon a stool, with his elbows resting upon the table, 
and his brow was buried in his hands. Walter was 
momentarily wonder-stricken. Big tears were roll- 
ing down the old gunner’s face, and fast they fol- 
lowed each other as they fell upon the table. His 
bosom was heaving with emotion, and low mur- 
murs were upon his lips. He gazed up as he heard 
the footfall of the young captain, and quickly he 
dashed the tears from his face. 

“My faithful old friend, what is the matter?” 

“Nothing, nothing.” 

“But there must be something to move you so?” 

“I am light-headed, that’s all.” 

Walter gazed upon the strangely working features 
of Maynard, and he could not fail of seeing they 
bore marks of no ordinary grief. 

“You are suffering from some cause,” he said. 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


129 


‘‘No, no. I believe I shall go home this afternoon, 
and see my wife.’’ 

“And I’ll go part of the way with you. I have 
business on the other side of the river.” 

“Good. Then you shall stop at my house.” 

“I will call in with pleasure. And now,” contin- 
ued Walter, at the same time laying a heavy bag 
upon the table; “here is your share of the prize- 
• money. It is not so much as I wish it was, for I 
have paid every penny of the debts we contracted 
in remodeling our vessel.” 

“I don’t want it, sir.” 

“Don’t want it!” repeated Nixon, in astonish- 
ment. 

‘'No, sir.” 

“Truly, Mr. Maynard, this is your full share. I 
had to pay the debts. I share equally with you,” 
said Walter, in a tone that showed he felt somewhat 
hurt in his feelings. 

“Captain Nixon, you misunderstand me,” quickly 
returned the old man, rising from his seat. “I did 
not come on board here with the hopes of making 
money, but to spend the evening of my life in be- 
half of my country. Were I to live ten times the 
allotted age of man, I have more money now than I 
could spend. Send the share you have set apart for 
me to George Washington.” 

“Are you in earnest in what you say?” he asked, 
as he laid his hand upon the old man’s shoulder. 

“Most assuredly I am.” 

“And you will not take your share of the prize- 
money?” 

“I do not need it.” 

“Rut still it is yours.” 

“It belongs to Washington. Send it to him.” 


130 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


‘‘With pleasure, if you insist/’ 

^‘I do not insist, but I wish it should be so.” 

Nixon watched the gunner’s countenance nar- 
rowly, and he felt assured that he was not only in 
sober earnest, but that he was also in a sound and 
healthy mind. 

“You have a noble soul, Maynard, and I would 
that America had more such spirits upon her soil.” 

“I have an American soul — the soul of one who 
would see his country free, and I believe you can say 
the same.” 

“I may have a noble soul, but at any rate I can 
say I have one that gives a home to no evil. May- 
nard, this sword was given me by my father when 
he was dying, and I swore then that it should not 
rest till my country was free, or my own arm was 
stiffened in death.” 

“Walter Nixon, were you born in Concord?” 

“Yes,” returned Walter. 

“Was your father’s name Nathan?” 

“Yes.” 

“And his father’s before him?” 

“Yes. But why these questions?” 

“I knew your father well.” 

“Did you ever live in Concord?” 

“Yes. I was by the death-bed when your grand- 
father gave that old sword into the hands of your 
father.” 

“Jacob Maynard, do you speak truly now?” 

“I was there, young man, and heard your father 
swear to live an honest and true life, and I believe 
he never broke his word.” 

“He never did,” ejaculated Walter. 

“And you will never break yours?” 

“Never,” 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


131 


Maynard was not a man of many questions, and 
shortly afterward he went on deck to see that his 
guns were blacked and polished previous xo the ad- 
mission of visitors on board. 

“I think I must be right/’ murmured Walter to 
himself, after the old man had gone. ‘‘He’s cer- 
tainly the man of whom I have heard my father 
speak. Gracious heavens ! if it be so, what a debt 
may I not owe him !” 

After dinner the captain and Maynard set out and 
crossed the river. Not far from the brick yards 
stood the dwelling of the old man, and as Walter 
entered it he was not a little surprised at the com- 
fort and tastefulness of everything around him. 

The meeting between the old patriot and his wife 
was an affecting one, and as our hero was introduced 
to the lady, he found her to be not only extremely 
affable, but evidently above the general class of 
society in intelligence and refinement. Her still 
bright and beautiful eyes sparkled with pride and 
pleasure as she heard of the privateer’s exploits, and 
she blessed her husband for the part he had taken. 

After three hours of social joy spent beneath May- 
nard’s roof Walter left, but promised that he would 
come back there and spend the night. 

When he turned his steps away it was to seek 
Helen Ryan. He thought he should find her. 


132 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


CHAPTER XVI. 

THE FLIGHT— DEVELOPMENTS. 

For a long and tedious hour Luke Soper and his 
young charge kept on their way through the woods. 
They were obliged to keep the path, for the tangled 
underbrush would have impeded their progress too 
much ; yet their path was but a narrow one, one 
hardly distinguishable in the darkness, and often 
had they lost it and been obliged to retrace their 
steps in order to regain it^ They had no opportunity 
to think of the cold, nor did they notice it, for ex- 
citement and labor kept their blood in feverish cir- 
culation. 

“We may walk slower now,’’ said Luke, “for I 
don’t believe they’ll find us if they come after us; 
and you must be tired, too.” 

“I am tired, Luke.” 

“So I should think. You breathe hard, an’ your 
slender legs tremble, for I hear ’em.” 

“Yes, they are weak. We have walked fast, Luke.” 

“So we have; but we had to. I declare, it’s kind 
o’ hard that a poor little feller like you should have 
to run away for fear his own father’d kill him.” 

“Father! did you say?” quickly uttered the boy, 
gazing up through the darkness upon the indistinct 
outlines of his protector’s countenance. 

“Yes, that’s what I said, certainly,” returned 
Luke, with a sudden start. 

“I am not fleeing from my father.” 

“Eh?” 

“You know I am not, Luke.” 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


133 


‘^You be certainly. Ain’t you goin’ right away 
from his house?” 

“Do you mean the house of Silas Ryan?” 

“Of course.” 

“Luke Soper,” said Gideon, in a slow, meaning 
tone, “you know that Silas Ryan is not my father?” 

“Why, boy, who told you that?” asked Soper, 
with mingled surprise and uneasiness. 

“Ryan himself told me.” 

“Did Silas Ryan tell you that he was not your fa- 
ther?” 

“Yes. Listen to me, Luke. If you had a son like 
me could you find it in your heart to kill him?” 

“No, by the blood of the saints, I couldn’t.” 

“Then has not Ryan told me by his own deed 
that he is not my father?” 

Luke walked on for some distance in silence. He 
was evidently pondering upon some subject that 
troubled him. At length he said : 

“You’ve got hold of sunthin’ more’n that, Gid- 
eon.” 

“So I have, Luke. I heard what you said when 
you prevented my false father from shooting me, 
and I then knew that the man who would have mur- 
dered me was not my father. Now was I not right? 
Don’t lie to me — don’t lie, Luke ; but tell me honestly 
the truth. No word of mine shall betray you.” 

“Well,” returned Luke, with some hesitation in 
his manner, “1 don’t s’pose there’s any use tryin’ to 
deny what you’ve heard with your own ears, an’ 
seen with your own eyes. Silas Ryan ain’t your 
father, nor never was, nor never will be. There!” 

“Oh, I knew it, I knew it,” ejaculated the boy, in 
tones of fervency and thankfulness. 

“The villain ain’t fit to be the father of a dog,’^ 


134 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


said Luke; of course he ain’t no right to claim 
kin with such as you an’ your sweet sister be.” 

For some time the two picked their way through 
the dubious path in silence. 

“Luke,” at length asked Gideon, in a careful, 
guarded manner, “do you know who my father 
was?” 

The man started more nervously than before, and 
Gideon felt his hand tremble violently, but he re- 
ceived no answer. 

“Did you know my father?” he repeated. 

“Yes, Gideon, I did know him.” 

“And what became of him?” 

“He died!” faintly articulated Luke, while he 
seemed half choked by some strange emotion. 

“How did he die?” 

“I could not tell you, boy.” 

“Do you not know, Luke?” 

The boy could hear the quick, heavy breathing of 
his companion, and he could feel the trembling of 
the big, hard hand that led him increase. 

“Don’t, for Heaven’s sake, Gideon, ask me any 
more such questions. I’ve told you that Silas Ryan 
wasn’t your father, an’ I’ve saved you twice from 
his murderous hands. Why can’t you let that do?” 

“Because I would know more. Surely a child has 
a right to ask of his father.” 

“But I can’t tell you any more.” 

“And yet you know more, Luke.” 

“No more that I can tell.” 

“Oh, you must tell me. I know you will tell me 
more of my father.” 

“No, Gideon.” 

“Luke, you have a kind heart; I know you have, 
or you wouldn’t thus befriend me.” 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


135 


‘^You don’t know anything about my heart,” ut- 
tered the man, almost doggedly. 

“Yes, I do. Your actions speak for you. Tell me, 
Luke, do you remember your own father or mother?” 

“I remember my mother, Gideon, but I hain’t 
much recollection about my father.” 

“And did you love your mother?” 

“Oh, Gideon, I’m afraid I didn’t love her as I 
ought to,” returned Luke, with considerable emo- 
tion. 

“Now, tell me, Luke,” said Gideon, after a short 
silence, “suppose your mother had died, and you did 
not know where or how, and then suppose you 
should find a man who knew all about it, would you 
not wish that he should tell you about it?” 

“Perhaps I should.” 

“Yes, and I know you would. Now, I ask you — 
and I beg of you, to tell me what became of my fa- 
ther.” 

“It’s no use, it’s no use, Gideon, yoji mustn’t ask 
me.” 

“Luke Soper, I know you will not tell me a lie.” 

“No, I won’t.” 

“Then I’ll ask you a plain, simple question. Was 
not my father murdered?” 

“Murdered!” shrieked Luke, stopping short in the 
narrow path, as though he had seen some wild eye 
gleaming at him from the wood. “Who said he was 
murdered?’^ 

“You said so, Luke.” 

“I didn’t! I didn’t! I didn’t! I never said so. I 
never told a soul of it.” 

“You told of it on the same morning that your 
words gave me proof that Silas Ryan was not my 


136 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


father. Don’t deny it now, Luke. Tell me, tell me, 
if it be so?” 

‘‘No, no— I won’t tell you any more.’^ 

“But you must tell me this, Luke.” 

“Come, let's hurry on again,” evasively uttered 
Soper. “We must not stop to talk any more. The 
river ain’t far off.” 

“You cannot evade my question so,” steadily 
persisted the boy, as they again moved forward. 
“You must tell me that.” 

Luke walked steadily on for several minutes 
without speaking, but when he did speak he showed 
by his tones atid manner that his mind was settled 
upon a point from which he would not depart. 

“Gideon,” he said, “I’ll answer that question, if 
you’ll promise not to ask me any more.” 

“Well, Luke, I’ll promise.” 

“And you won’t ask me another question about 
your father?” 

“No, not to-night.” 

“It don’t make no odds whether you ask it to- 
night, or some other time, for I tell you plainly that 
I won’t answer it when you do ask it. Your father 
was murdered!” 

“Oh, may a just God forever blast the man who 
did the deed!” uttered the boy, in tones of deep 
feeling. 

Luke Soper dropped the small hand he held, and 
stopped again ; but in a moment he seemed to re- 
cover himself, and once more reaching out for the 
hand of his young charge, he started on. 

Some ten minutes were passed in a silence broken 
only by the crackling of the boughs and bushes be- 
neath the feet of the travelers, and the low moan- 
ing of the night wind through the tall tree-tops. It 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


137 


was dark, very dark, in those deep woods, and poor 
Gideon began to feel faint and weary. His ankles 
were pained, and his joints trembled with exertion. 

‘'1 cannot go much farther, Luke,'’ he said, as he 
leaned heavily on the hand of his guide. 

“Bear up till we reach the river.” 

“How far is it?” 

“Not far. Not over a quarter of a mile.” 

“Isn’t that it we can hear now?” 

“But we can reach it only by this path. We 
never could get through the Hark!” 

They both stopped suddenly. 

“What is it, Luke?” asked the boy. 

“I heard a noise behind us.” 

As Soper spoke he let go of Gideon’s hand and 
knelt down upon the ground. A moment the boy 
stood unassisted, and then, as. his limbs failed him, 
he sank down exhausted. 

“It's somebody coming this way!” whispered 
Luke, with his ear close to the ground. “It’s a man, 
I know by the tread! Come, Gideon, we must 
hurry.” 

“I cannot go any farther, Luke.” 

“But you must. The whole party are after us, of 
course, and if we are found we shall both be killed. 
If ’twas only Silas Eyan, I wouldn’t care ; but the 
others will shoot us. Come, come, or you’ll never 
see your sister again.” 

At that thought the boy started up, and by exer- 
tion of his whole remaining strength he got upon 
his feet. 

“Ha! there’s a light! See it flash through the 
bushes? Come!” 

As Soper spoke he caught the boy by the hand 
and started on again; but be could not go far, for 


138 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


Gidpon was utterly unable to keep upon his f«eet. 
Under ordinary circumstances he might have stood 
a much severer trial, but long and intense anxiety 
and suffering had made him sick, and even before 
he left his bed he had been far froni strong and well. 

“Can’t you stand it to the river?^’ 

“No, no, I cannot walk/’ 

“Then I must carry you. We must gain the 
river.” 

Soper lifted the boy in his arms as he spoke, and 
with hurried strides he dashed on through the deep 
wildwood. 


IHE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


139 


CHAPTER XVIT. 

A FEARFUL DWINDLING OF THE TORY LEAGUE. 

He who bore the weakened form of the boy was a 
strong, powerful man, but it soon became evident to 
him that he was followed by a foot swifter than his 
own. 

The pursuer was gradually gaining, and Luke 
knew it, and he knew, too, that he could not reach 
the river without being overtaken. For an instant 
he stopped, and he could distinctly hear the crack- 
ling of the dry sticks behind him. 

“Gideon,” said he, “we must hide. We can 
crawl in under the bushes and let that man pass us.” 

“And is he so near us?” faintly asked the boy, 

“Yes, he’s almost up with us.” 

“Perhaps I could walk now. Let me try. I must 
be a great hindrance to you.” 

“You couldn’t walk ten steps, boy. Come, let us 
crawl in here somewhere.” 

Luke could not see the nature of the covert he 
sought, but he set the boy upon the ground, and at 
a venture he crawled into the nearest place. The 
bushes were thick, and some few seared and yellow 
leaves still clung to them, and as soon as he reached 
a point where he thought he might be free from ob- 
servation, he stopped and turned his face toward 
the path, at the same time drawing Gideon closer to 
him, and letting his head rest upon his lap. 

Nearer and nearer came the pu'-suer, and at 
length Luke could see the rays of light that came 
struggling through the bushes. Suddenly the man 


140 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


stopped, but it was only for an instant. Luke drew 
a heavy pistol from his bosom and cocke& it. At 
length the man came opposite to where the fugitives 
were hidden, and as the light he carried flashed in 
his face Luke could see that it was Wimper. 

The Indian passed the spot, and Soper felt re- 
lieved, but it was only for a moment, for soon the 
pursuer stopped again, and Luke could see that he 
was holding his lantern down to the ground. Luke 
saw at once that the Indian’s quick eye would de- 
tect the spot where the footprints left the path, and 
he clutched his pistol with a firmer grip. 

sh!” he slowly whispered, bending his lips 
close to the ear of the boy; “don’t let a breath of 
noise come from your lips. He’s found out that we 
hain’t gone no farther.” 

At this moment the Indian started up from his 
search, and uttered a long, loud shout, which was 
soon answered by a voice not far to the left, nearer 
the river. 

“Here, here, this waj’',” cried the Indian. 

Another response was heard, and then Wimper 
held his lantern to the ground, and began slowly to 
retrace his steps. Luke could see that he held a 
pistol in his right hand, and he knew that if he was 
discovered he would be surely shot. At length 
Wimper came to the spot where the footmarks 
ceased, and a slight exclamation broke from his lips. 

Luke knew that in another moment he would be 
seen. The distance was not over ten feet, and there 
was a straight line through the intricacies of the 
wildwood. He aimed his pistol —the villain saw him 
—but ’twas too late. Soper fired before Wimper 
could raise his weapon. There was a sharp cry 
broke from the Indian’s lips — he staggered back a 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


141 


few paces and fell. The lantern had fallen in an 
upright position, and it still burned. 

The scene and the circumstance had aroused the 
energies of the boy, and as he saw him fall he 
quickly uttered : 

'‘Now let us go, Luke. I am stronger now, and I 
know I could reach the river.’’ 

"No, no, there are more to come yet. The man 
who answered Wimper was not far off.” 

"But he may not be able to get through the thick 
bushes.” 

"Yes, he will. He was in the wide path, and he 
can easily cross over to here. Ha ! there he comes — 
don’t you hear his steps?” 

The crackling of the bushes could be plainly 
heard, and ere lung a man emerged from them and 
entered the narrow path not more than two rods 
above the place where Wimper had fallen. He at 
once detected the light and made for it, and as he 
came up, Soper could see from his hiding-place that 
it was Goss. The Tory picked up the lantern, and 
as he turned it round, its rays fell on the stiff corpse 
of the Indian. He sprang forward and held the 
light down to the pale face. 

"My God!” he uttered, starting back in alarm, 
"it's Wimper ! I wonder if he’s dead,” he continued, 
as he again approached the body and laid his hand 
upon the face. "Dead ! Where’s the man that did 
it?” 

As Goss spoke he turned about and cocked his 
pistol. 

"Give me your pistol, quick!” whispered Luke. 

Gideon drew the weapon from the place where he 
had put it and handed it to his companion. 

Goss had begun to gaze up and down the edges of 


142 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


the bushes, and at length his light was turned 
toward the spot where the fugitives were hidden. 
Luke did not wait to be discovered this time, but at 
the first opportunity he took a deliberate aim and 
fired. Goss dropped the lantern and started back. 
At that instant Luke heard the crashing of bushes 
farther below him, and he knew that the others 
were coming up to the scene. His pistols were both 
empty, and he had no other ready weapon. Goss 
was feebly staggering against the opposite shrub- 
bery, and without a moment’s thought he sprang 
from his covert. He seized the lantern, the light in 
which was still burning, and set it upright. Then 
he started toward Goss, but before he could lay his 
hand upon him the villain fell. Luke caught up the 
pistols that had been dropped by the two Tories, 
and leaving the lantern where it stood, he leaped 
quickly into the thicket just as Silas Ryan and Dow 
came into the path. 

The two remaining Tories came up to where the 
light was burning, and their eyes were greeted by 
the bodies of their fallen companions. Ryan caught 
up the lantern and looked at the faces of the dead 
men. He touched them with his feet, and turned 
them half over, but they fell heavily back again. 

‘‘Death and perdition!’’ he startlingly cried, as he 
turned toward Dow, “ ’tis Goss and Wimper— they 
are both dead!” 

“Dead!” repeated Dow, shaking from head to 
foot with fear. 

“Yes, as dead as stones.” 

“Egad, Ryan, let’s you and I go back to the 
house, or we shall be dead, too.” 

“Oh, heavens!” uttered Ryan, without seeming to 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


143 


notice what his companion had said, ^^that makes 
four of our league— dead!’’ 

“And all through the means of that boy of 
yours,” said Dow. 

“But it wasn’t my fault. These men’s blood does 
not rest on my hands,” uttered Ryan, gazing upon 
the upturned face of the Indian. 

“Of course it don’t,” responded Dow, drawing a 
little nearer to the corpse-laden spot. “There isn’t 
any blood on my hands, nor on yours.” 

“Who said there was blood on my hands?” ex- 
claimed the old Tory, turning suddenly upon his 
companion. 

“Nobody. There ain’t no blood on them. I said 
there wasn’t,” returned Dow, at the same time 
slightly shrinking beneath the wild look of Ryan. 

“Ha, ha, ha!” hysterically laughed the gray- 
headed villain. “It’s all washed off long ago. My 
hands are clean, Dow— clean, I say!” 

“I know they be. But come, let’s go back to your 
house. ’Tain’t safe to stay here— we shall both be 
shot.” 

“But the boy — I dare not let him go.” 

“Egad! what’s that, Ryan?” exclaimed Dow, as 
his eye caught the outlines of the boy where the 
light shone upon him through the bushes. 

“Where?” cried Ryan, starting to the side of his 
companion. 

“Back, villains!” shouted Luke, in a voice of 
thunder, as he leaped from the spot where he had 
stood. 

Both the Tories started and turned toward the 
new-comer. 

“Don’t shoot, don’t!” gasped Dow. “I didn’t 
mean to hurt you. They made me come.” 


144 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


Luke paid no attention to the cringing coward, 
but springing toward Ryan he struck him a blow in 
the pit of the stomach that settled him upon the 
turf like a rag. Once more he set the lantern upon 
the ground, and having secured Ryan’s pistol and 
placed it in his pocket, he turned toward Dow. 

‘‘Now, start for your home, you brandy-bloated 
villain, or I'll shoot vou like a dog! Start!” 

Dow waited to hear no more, nor did he think of 
looking after the fate of the companion he left be- 
hind, but turning quickly upon his heel, he fled as 
fast as his legs would carry him. 

By the time Dow had got out of sight Ryan had 
arisen to his feet. Luke picked up the lantern, and 
holding a cocked pistol in his hand, he faced his soi- 
disant master. 

“Soper, did you kill these men?” asked the old 
Tory, in a trembling, fearful tone. 

“Yes, I did, Silas Ryan. I told you I would watch 
over and protect that boy, and v^hen I said so, I 
meant it. I didn’t think you would try to kill him 
again.” 

“I didn’t try to kill him.” 

“Don’t blacken your soul any more, Silas Ryan.” 

Ryan gazed into the face of the man before him, 
but he did not speak — he could not. The time, the 
place, the scene, and the circumstances, all com- 
bined to affect him thus. His face was of a livid 
hue, and he trembled like a ghost-frightened girl. 

“Go back to your house, Silas Ryan, and leave the 
bo3" with me. I will meet you there again.” 

“Luke,” gasped the terror-stricken, miserable 
wretch, “you have not betrayed me?” 

‘No, nor will I if you leave me now. Go home, 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


145 


and when I return I’ll come out here and help you 
bury these bodies.” 

The old Tory cast one more glance upon the cold, 
stiff bodies of Wimper and Goss, and without 
another word he turned away from the spot. He did 
not even ask for his pistol. In a few moments 
more he had passed from sight. 

‘‘Come, Gideon, our way is clear now.” 

The boy crept out from his hiding-place, and gave 
his hand to Luke. He was stronger now, and ere 
long they reached the river. A small boat was 
found, in which they crossed over to the southern 
shore, and at the end of half an hour more they 
reached the dwelling of an old Quaker, named Simon 
Goodhue, with whom Luke seemed to be acquainted. 
No questions were asked by the friend, but taking 
Gideon kindly by the hand, he led him into the 
house, and Luke Soper followed. 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


146 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

THE TOEIES LAY PLANS AND HAVE A LISTENER. 

On the morning following the events last recorded, 
Helen Ryan rose from her bed and dressed herself. 

She knew by the sensation produced upon the 
nerves of her sightless eyes that it was broad day- 
light, and she wondered that her brother had not 
called her as was his wont. 

In the kitchen she found no fire. It was cold, bit- 
terly cold. All was still as death in the place, for 
even the old clock had run down. A strange 
strength seemed to pervade her frame, for she 
sprang back toward the chamber stairs and as- 
cended to her brother’s room. She moved to the 
bed, and ran her hand over its surface, but she 
found it empty. She called again his name, and 
'then she turned. Her foot struck aeainst a pros- 
trate body, and a sharp cry of alarm broke from her 
lips. Quickly she stooped, and her delicate fingers 
traversed over the form that had arrested her. She 
felt the sharp beard, the smooth hair, and the neatly 
tied neckcloth, and she felt, too, how cold and rigid 
the body was. 

“ ’Tis not my brother! ’tis Baxter! But what did 
he here? Oh, heavens! perhaps they have mur- 
dered him yet ! Gideon, Gideon ! Oh, my brother, 
where are you? Answer me. ’Tis Helen, your sis- 
ter, that calls!” 

A death-like silence only gave back the echo of 
her own voice in reply, and with a heavy groan she 
sank back upon the bed, When she would have 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


147 


arisen she was startled by the sound of heavy foot- 
steps upon the stairs, which her quick ear told her 
were R3^an’s, and she also heard the steps of another 
following him. 

‘‘Ha! what are you doing here?’’ exclaimed Ryan, 
starting back as his eyes fell upon the spirit-like 
form of the blind girl. 

“I am seeking my brother,” she ' returned, as she 
arose from her sitting posture. 

“Your brother is not here.” 

“Then where is he?” 

“I don’t know. Go and seek him.” 

“Have they killed him? Oh, tell me, father, have 
they killed him?” 

“Killed him!” repeated Ryan. “No.” 

“Then tell me where he is.” 

“Perhaps he is on some further plan to betray his 
father again.” 

“Father?” 

The word that thus fell from Helen’s lips was bu^ 
a mere self-murmured whisper, but Silas Ryan 
caught it, and it made him turn pale. 

“Tell me,” continued the blind girl, who knew not 
that she had been heard, “what means this fearful 
thing here in this chamber?” 

“What thing?” 

“This dead man by my brother’s bedside.” 

“I don’t know any better than you do,” returned 
Ryan, who had been regaining his self-possession, 
and who saw by the incoherency of the girl's ques- 
"tions that she had no thought beyond the safety of 
her brother. “He’s dead, and that’s all I know about 
it. Perhaps he died in a fit.” 

“No, no — I felt the blood! the cold, frozen blood!” 

“Then somebody’s killed him.” 


148 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


^^Egad, Pyan,’’ whispered Dow, who had followed 
his leader up; ‘^get the girl out of the way, for we 
must dispose of Baxter’s body as soon as possible.” 

“Go below, Helen,” said Ryan. 

The poor girl w<xited for no further orders, but 
feeling her way past the two men, she passed from 
the room, and descended once more to the kitchen. 
She was just upon the point of sinking into a chair 
when she thought she heard her name pronounced 
in a low whisper. 

“Gideon!” she uttered, starting toward the quar- 
ter from whence the sound proceeded. 

“ ’Tis not Gideon, it’s Luke,” returned the voice, 
from the back window which opened to the shed. 
“Come out here.” 

Helen hurried to the back door, felt out the bolt, 
and threw it back, and passed out into the shed. 

“Luke,” she whispered, “oh, do you know what 
has become of my brother?” 

“Yes, Helen, he’s safe.” 

The blind girl clasped her hands in silent ecstasy, 
and her lips moved with an inaudible prayer. 

“Didn’t Ryan and Dow come into the house a lit- 
tle while ago?” asked Luke, as he drew Helen far- 
ther from the open window. 

“Yes, yes.” 

“And where be they now?” 

“In my brother’s chamber. Oh, Luke, there is a 
horrible sight up there!” 

“How do you know? You can’t see.” 

“But I can feel. Baxter has been murdered, and 
he lies by my brother’s bed.” 

“He wasn’t murdered, Helen. I killed him my- 
self. He went up there to murder Gideon, and the 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


149 


rest sent him up, but I saved him ; and I’ve come to 
save you.” 

“And will you carry me where Gideon is?” 

“Yes, that’s what I’ve come for.” 

“Then may God bless you, Luke — God bless you! 
You have a kind, a noble heart.” 

“Do you really mean to pray for God to bless me, 
Helen?” 

“Yes, yes, indeed I do; and I’ll pray for you as 
long as I live.” 

There was a big tear in the eye of Luke Soper, and 
his lips quivered with an emotion that was new to 
his soul. For a moment he half averted his face, 
as though he feared that even the blind girl might 
see the thoughts that dwelt there. 

“They Have gone up to bring the body down?” he 
whispered, at length. 

“Yes, for I heard Dow say something about it.” 

“Then as soon as they go out of the house you 
must run up to your room and put on your cloak, 
and get what clothes you want, and then come back 
here again. I’ll hide so that they won’t see me, and 
as soon as they get out of sight we’ll start for the 
woods. Hurry now.” 

Luke Soper hid himself behind a pile of wood in 
the shed, where he could watch the movements of 
any one who might leave the house; and shortly 
afterward the back door was again opened, and 
Ryan and Dow came out. They bore the stiff corpse 
of Baxter in their arms, and as they entered the 
shed they laid their burden down upon the very 
place behind which Luke had taken shelter. He 
trembled with fear, for he thought that perhaps 
they meant to place the body behind the wood till 


160 


THE YANKEE CHAMPIOI^. 


night. Soper placed his hand carefully upon the 
butt of one of his pistols. 

‘‘Egad, Ryan/’ uttered Dow, as he puffed with the 
effects of the exertion he had put forth; “this has 
been a sorry business for us. Out of our six brave 
fellows there’s only you and me left.” 

Ryan gazed upon the face of the corpse, and a look 
of agony settled upon his countenance. 

“It’s bad!” he murmured. 

“Egad, there’s no mistake. Now, what’s to be 
done? Let’s leave this body here, and clear out. I 
don’t want to carry it any farther, I don’t like it.” 

“We must not leave it here. We must carry it to 
the woods and bury it. Some one may pass this 
way.” 

“And then what shall we do?” asked Dow. 

“Good heavens, I don’t know!” groaned Silas 
Ryan. “Luke Soper and the boy are at liberty, and 
I know not where to go. I must hunt up that boy 
by some means.” 

“Didn’t you say Soper was coming back to help 
you take care of Wimper and Goss?” 

“Yes.” 

“Eirad, then let’s hide, and shoot him when he 
comes.” 

“Shoot him!” repeated Ryan, with a start. 

“Yes, it’s the easiest thing in the world. We can 
hide when we see him coming, and shoot him when 
he don’t know it. Egad, that’ll be killing two 
birds with one stone, for you won’t do anything 
with the boy as long as he’s alive.” 

Silas Ryan trembled with fierce excitement. He 
pressed his hand upon his contracted brow, and for 
some time he stood in deep thought. 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


151 


will do it!’’ he said at length. ^‘You will 
shoot him, Dow.” 

^‘Egad, yes. He’ll come to-day, won’t he?” 

“I expect he will.” 

“Then we’d better clear out as soon as he’s dis- 
posed of, and leave the boy alone.” 

“No,” returned Ryan, with a demoniac look. “I 
have two jobs to do yet, and I’ll perform them, or 
die in the attempt.” 

“That may be all very well for you, Silas Ryan, 
but roll me down hill in a brandy-pipe if I have any 
desire to die just yet.” 

“But you would have no objections to getting a 
few hundred pounds to put in your purse?” 

“Of course not.” 

“Then you have the chance. That infernal Cap- 
tain Nixon, if I am not mistaken, will be this way 
before a great while, and, dead or alive, I’m to have 
eight hundred pounds for his body.” 

“Hold on! That gal won’t be running away, will 
she?” 

“No. She couldn’t get far if she should try.” 

The two men lifted the corpse upon their shoulders 
and passed out from the shed. The way they went 
toward the woods lay to the eastward of the house, 
and ere long they were out of sight. Soper crept 
from his hiding-place and gazed off in the direction 
they had taken. There was an expression of peculiar 
triumph upon his features, and his eyes sparkled 
with intense fire. 

“Now, Silas Ryan,” he muttered to himself, “you 
have fairly cut the oath that bound us. You have 
planned to kill me. I don’t owe you anything now. 
My oath is of no use. We’ll see who dies first. I’ve 


152 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


just as good as sold you my soul, and now you want 
my life. Take it if you can get it !” 

As Luke closed this meaning soliloquy he entered 
the kitchen, where he found Helen waiting for him. 
She had thrown on her cloak and hood, and she had 
also prepared a small bundle. 

‘‘Are you ready?” asked Luke. 

“Tes. Let us leave this place as soon as possible. 
This roof has given me shelter from the storms of 
heaven for twelve long years, but God grant that I 
may never enter it again,” she said, earnestly. 

“Then come. We must hurry. Silas Ryan may 
be back before long.” 

Luke gave the trembling girl his hand, and half 
lifting her along he hastened from the house. He 
was not long in reaching the water, where he had 
left the boat he had come in, and having lifted 
Helen on board, he jumped in and pushed off. 

Within two hours he hauled the boat up on the 
opposite bank, and having assisted Helen to the 
shore, he started off toward the dwelling of Simon 
Goodhue, which stood only a short distance. 

“Gideon, Gideon! My brother! Oh, where is 
he?” cried the blind girl, as she entered the kind 
old Quaker’s dwelling. 

“Here, my sister,” murmured the boy, as he 
sprang forward, and caught the lovely being in his 
arms. “Safe, safe, sweet sister.” 

The old Quaker and his wife stood by and wit- 
nessed the scene. They saw the tears course down 
those young cheeks, and they heard the soft, sweet, 
heart-sent murmurs of thanksgiving that arose from 
those two pure souls; and they wiped their own 
eyes as the warmi drops of sympathy welled up 
there, 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


153 


CHAPTER XIX. 

THE LIFE-TIDE OF VILLAINY EBBS FASTER YET. 

It was on the evening of the same day that Helen 
had been placed beneath the roof of the Quaker, 
that Walter Nixon had left the dwelling of Jacob 
Maynard, on his way to the Tory’s cottage. It was 
just nightfall when he reached the small opening 
within which the house stood, and with an eager 
step he approached it. All was still and quiet within, 
as for several moments he hearkened. He placed 
his hand upon the latch, and found that the door 
was not fastened. Without hesitation he pushed it 
open and entered. 

The kitchen was cold and cheerless, and Walter 
knew by the feeling of the atmosphere that there 
had been no fire through the day. 

“Gone! All gone!” he murmured, as he gazed 
through the gloom. 

It was but the work of a few moments to strike a 
light, and as the lamp was lighted he began to look 
about him. Upon the table lay an old Bible, and by 
the side of it were five strips of paper. 

“She cannot have been gone long,” he said to him- 
self ; ‘‘for here is her Bible, from which her brother 
had been doubtlessly reading to her, and here are 
some marks that have been taken out and left. One, 
two, three, four. What do^s that mean? Knife? 
Those papers were cut for lots— that is a strange 
word to be placed at the hazard of a draft.” 

Walter gazed upon the papers in a thoughtful 
mood, and abstractedly he cast his eyes upon the 


154 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


floor. They rested upon a dark spot in a line be- 
tween the door that led from the stairway and the 
one that opened to the shed. He took the lamp and 
approached it. It was a clod of frozen blood. 

“Just heavens!” he cried, as he started back and 
set the lamp again upon the table, “what means 
this? There have been devils at work here! But 
that cannot be her blood ! A devil, even, could not 
have harmed her.” 

At that moment Walter thought he heard the 
sound of footsteps without, and on turning about, 
was confldent that he saw a human face at the win- 
dow, but it disappeared the moment he had caught 
it. Then followed a low hum of voices, as if of two 
persons in an eager conversation, and starting back 
a few paces from the table, Walter drew both of his 
pistols and cocked them. Hardly had he done so, 
when the front door was opened, and in stalked 
Silas Ryan and Dow, the latter keeping safely be- 
hind his leader. Ryan started quickly back as he 
noticed the pistols, and in so doing he liked to have 
sent Dow sprawling upon the floor. 

“Who are you?” asked Walter, still holding his 
weapons ready for use. 

“And who are you?” returned Ryan. 

“Answer my question first.” 

The old Tory saw that the man who thus stood be- 
fore him did not know him, and in an instant he re- 
solved to play a false character. He mistrusted 
Walter Nixon in a moment, both from his dress and 
his general appearance. 

“Your question is easily answered,” he replied, 
“though I can’t say that I like the manner of your 
asking it. We are travelers, and seek shelter here 
for the night.” 


THE YANKEE CHAIVIPION. 


155 


you know the man who resides here?’’ asked 
Walter. 

“No, I don’t. And now, stranger, if it wouldn’t 
be an impudent question, who are you?” 

“A man like yourself, perhaps, though I did not 
come here accidentally,” returned Walter. “I came 
to seek one whom I expected to find here.” 

“Oh, then you don’t belong to the house?” 

“No,” answered our hero. 

As Walter made that answer a vague suspicion 
fiashed across his mind that all was not as the two 
men would have it appear. Ryan had been a little 
too off-hand. The very manner in which he had at 
first addressed him proved that he knew the person 
to whom he spoke did not belong to the house. 
From that moment our hero had his eyes open. 

“Who are you seeking here?” asked the old Tory. 

“A girl named Helen Ryan.” 

“Oh, you won’t find her here, sir,” quickljr re- 
turned Dow. “She’s ” 

The unlucky man met the thundering look of 
Ryan, and he stopped. Walter noticed the move- 
ment, though he showed it not, and turning to Dow, 
he said : 

“And how do you know?” 

“Because she ain’t here?” 

“But how do you know that?” 

“My friend judges from the appearance of the 
place, I presume,” returned Ryan, coming quickly 
to the aid of his obtuse companion. “The appear- 
ance of this room, which is evidently the only room 
for cooking in the house, shows pretty conclusively 
that there can be no one here but ourselves.” 

“Perhaps you are right,” said Walter. And then 


156 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


placing his left hand pistol in his bosom, be contin- 
ued, as he raised the lamp : 

‘‘I believe, however, I shall satisfy myself of the 
fact by examining the chambers above. 

A shade of uneasiness passed over the features of 
Ryan, but he soon composed himself, and by one of 
the most impressive aspects he was capable of giv- 
ing, he managed to hold Dow quiet. 

‘‘Are you going to leave us in the dark, sir?’’ said 
the old man, with much coolness. 

“Oh, there’s no need of that,” returned Walter. 
“You can accompany me.” 

“No — we’ll remain here.” 

“Just as you please. I sha’n’t be gone long.” 

And as Walter thus said, he opened the door that 
led to the chambers, and passed through. 

“Good thunder! Ryan, you ought not to have let 
him gone up stairs,” uttered Dow, as soon as Wal- 
ter had gone. 

“What’s the hurt?” 

“Hurt? Why, he’ll see the blood on Gideon’s 
floor.” 

“And what if he does! It wouldn’t be half so dan- 
gerous as your accursed stupidity liked to have 
proved.” 

“Oh, don't blame me, Ryan, for I didn’t exactly 
understand what you were up to. Egad, but that 
was a glorious thought of yours. He don’t suspect 
that we belong here.” 

“I don’t believe he suspects anything yet.” 

“But then you ought not to have let him go up 
there.” 

“Don’t be a fool, Dow. Dead men tell no tales. 
That man is Walter Nixon, and he goes not from 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


157 


this place alive. Now we must lay a plan to destroy 
him.’’ 

“Egad, we’ll shoot him.” 

“Yes, but where?” 

“Right here— when he comes back.” 

“No, Dow,” returned Silas, with a shudder. “I 
want no more blood spilled in this house. Every 
drop spilt here will come upon our own heads. We 
must dispatch him out of doors.” 

“He seems like a sharp one,” suggested Dow. 

“And so he is,” said Ryan. “If we would shoot 
him easily, we must be careful how we operate. 
You saw how stubbornly he persisted in holding a 
loaded pistol in his hand. Now, my plan is this. I 
will go out doors and hide myself behind the corner 
of the shed, and when he comes down he will natu- 
rally inquire where I have gone. You must tell him 
we have a boat down the river, and that I have 
gone down after some things we left in it. Then tell 
him that since he has been gone there was a girl 
came to the door and went away again around the 
shed. Be sure and tell him she hasn’t been gone 
more than two minutes, and of course he’ll start at 
once after her. Then as soon as he comes around 
the corner I’ll clap a pistol to his head and fire — and 
he is a dead man. Now, do you expect you can do 
that without a blunder?” 

“Of course I can,” returned Dow, who seemed to 
be highly pleased at the idea of not having any 
shooting to do. 

Silas Ryan examined the priming of his pistol by 
feeling of it with his finger, and having assured 
himself that the pan was full, he shut the steel down, 
and turned from the room. Once he stopped, but in 
a moment he went on again, and could one have 


158 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


seen his face a shade of strange doubt and misgiv- 
ing would have been found resting upon it. 

When Walter Nixon ascended the stairs, he went 
directly toward the room where Gideon had slept, 
and entered the apartment, the door of which was 
open. The floor was covered with frozen pools and 
gouts of blood. Walter knew by the size of the bed, 
and by a few articles of clothing that hung up in the 
room, that it was where the patriot boy had slept. 
For some moments his brain was in a painful whirl 
of chaotic excitement, and^with starting eye-balls he 
gazed upon the gore-laden floor. 

‘‘Here’s been a murder most foul; but is there a 
fiend on earth that could have killed that boy? I 
cannot believe it, and yet this is his chamber, and 
perhaps this is his blood!” 

Walter leaned upon the bed, and sat for some mo- 
ments in thought. 

“As I live,” he uttered to himself starting up from 
the bedside, “I believe that man below is Silas 
Ryan ! He looks the very villain in every feature. 
But they cannot deceive me so easily. That was a 
miserable, abortive attempt to palm themselves off 
as strangers to this place. Come forth, my faithful 
pistols. They shall give me the answer for this. They 
are cowards — miserable cowards. ’Tis Silas Ryan 
— I know it.” 

Walter carefully examined his pistols as he ceased 
— poured out the old priming and put in fresh, and 
then carefully cocking them both, he took the lamp 
between his thumb and finger, and descended to the 
room below, where he found Dow sitting alone by 
the table. 

“Ah, where is your companion?” inquired Walter 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


159 


Nixon, as soon as he assured himself that the man 
whom he sought was not in the room. 

Dow turned pale as a ghost at the sight of the two 
pistols, and as Walter stepped forward and set the 
lamp upon the table, the Tory actually started from 
his seat in affright. 

In an instant the young captain saw with whom 
he had to deal, and his course of action was laid out. 

“Oh, don’t be alarmed,” he said, in a mild tone. 
“Where has your companion gone?” 

“Why,” returned Dow, gaining courage from the 
young man’s manner, and settling into his seat 
again, “you see, we came up the river in a boat of 
our own, and when we came up to this house we left 
some things in the boat that we don’t hardly wish 
to have stay there over night, so he has gone down 
after them. That’s all, upon my honor, sir. Egad, 
it is.” 

“Now, my dear sir,” said Walter, in a calm, easy 
tone, while he bent his eyes sharply upon the man 
before him, “I have a little piece of advice for you. 
I am going to put a few questions, and I want them 
answered in a straightforward manner, and I don’t 
want you to utter a tone louder than is barely nec- 
essary for me to hear. You do not wish to die at 
present, I suppose?” 

“Oh. no, sir!” 

“Sit still, sir!” 

“Oh, sir, don’t point that pistol at me so. It’s 
cocked, and if it should go off it would murder me ! 
Don’t, sir!” 

“Hush! Utter another sound as loud as that, and 
you are a dead man!” 

“Oh, I won’t, 1 won’t, if you only just won’t kill 
me.” 


160 


THE YANKEE CHiVMPION. 


A smile of derision passed over Walter’s features, 
as he glanced upon the cowering villain, and still 
holding the pistol at an aim, he said : 

“Now, don’t tell me a lie. Beware, if you do. Who 
is that man who was here when I left the room?” 

“He’s a — a — oh, don’t hold that pistol so near.” 

“Who — is — he? — I — asked — you,” came from Wal- 
ter’s lips, in long drawn, fearfully emphasized parts. 

“He’s Silas Eyan!” fearfully uttered Dow, with 
lips as livid as a lightning-scathed flesh-spot. 

“You answer me well,” said the young man, with 
a glowing eye. “Now, what is your name?” 

“Ichabod Dow, sir.” 

“A very good name, indeed. And now, sir, I have 
a question of still greater importance to ask you. 
Kemember — if you would live, answer me at once, 
and with truth. What has become of Gideon and 
Helen Ryan?” 

“I don’t know, sir.” 

“Ah!” 

“As God is my judge, sir, I do not know. Oh, 
don’t shoot me. If I should die at this moment I 
couldn’t tell you any more.” 

“Have they not been killed?” 

“No, sir—no, sir.” 

“Neither of them?” 

“No, sir.” 

“Then how came they to leave this house?” 

“Because ” 

“Answer!” 

“Oh, don’t! Because they would have been mur- 
dered if they stayed here!” 

“Who would have murdered them?” 

“There wouldn’t anybody have killed them both, 
but Baxter set out to destroy the boy.” 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


161 


‘‘And did not Ryan have a hand in it?’^ 

“Ye-e-s, sir.’’ 

“And you drew lots to see who should do it?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“ISTow, whose blood is that in the boy’s chamber?” 

“It’s Baxter’s, sir.” 

“Now,” he said, as soon as he had gained all the 
intelligence he could hope for, “tell me whare Silas 
Ryan is at this moment.” 

Dow answered the question truly, though he gave 
not the exact locality of the old Tory’s hiding-place. 

“Now, understand me, Ichabod Dow. Go out and 
tell him to come here, but tell him not to bring a 
weapon in his hands, for if he does he dies ere he 
crosses the threshold of that door. I shall leave the 
light here upon the table, and I shall so conceal my- 
self that I can see without being seen ; so he dies if 
he comes in armed. Go, sir, and tell him.” 

Dow turned tremblingly away and left the room. 
Walter felt sure that all be had heard was true, and 
he believed that Helen Ryan and her brother were 
in a place of safety. 

The young man’s mind was busy with such reflec- 
tions, when he was startled by the report of a pistol 
near the house. At first he thought it might have 
been fired at random for him ; but the idea dwelt 
with him only for an instant, and holding his 
weapons both ready for use, be hurried forth into 
the yard and turned in the direction from which the 
sound seemed to have proceeded. He had not gone 
many steps when his eye caught the outlines of a 
man near the corner of the shed in a kneeling pos- 
ture. As he approached, however, the man started 
to his feet, and standing a moment in that position, 
he turned and hastened off at a swift run toward 


162 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


the woods. Walter could see by the height and 
size of the figure that it was Ryan. 

He did not stay to gaze long after the fieeing man, 
for he heard a deep groan at the spot from which 
Ryan had fied, and hastening up he found Dow 
stretched upon the frosty sward. 

‘^Oh, Silas Ryan,’’ groaned the fallen man. 

^‘This isn’t Ryan. He’s fied and left you.” 

‘‘Is that you. Captain Nixon?” 

“Yes,” returned the young man, bending down 
and raising the head of the Tory in his lap. 

Dow strained his faltering eye, but he seemed not 
to have the power of discovering objects around 
him, for he looked not into the face of Walter, 
though evidently he sought it. 

“Oh, captain, do you believe I shall die?” he said, 
in fearful accents. 

“I don’t know. Where are you shot?” 

“Here — here,” returned Dow, painfully raising 
his hand to his left breast. 

“Did Silas Ryan do it?” 

“Yes. He thought ’twas you.” 

“Then I have reason to thank him for his mis- 
take.” 

“But you don’t think I shall die, sir?” 

“I don’t see how you can help it,” returned Wal- 
ter, as he placed his finger upon Dow’s wrist, and 
found that the pulse was weakening fast. 

“Oh, I’m not fit to die!” groaned the wretch. 
“My soul is black with sin.” 

“You should have thought of that before. You 
might have escaped this fate had you been true to 
your country.” 

“If I die, Silas Ryan will be the only one left. He 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


163 


got US all to join him, and now we must all die and 
leave him behind to pocket the gold.” 

‘‘Think not of gold now, Ichabod Dow,” said the 
young man, while a bitter sneer escaped him. 
“Silas Ryan will be worse off than you. The world 
of spirits contains not a soul more thoroughly guilty 
than is Ryan’s at this moment.” 

“Captain Nixon, I can do good before I die.* Be- 
ware of Silas Ryan. He has sworn a most terrible 
oath that he won’t die till he has killed you and 
Gideon, and got the poor blind girl back into his 
power. Look out for him, for he’ll creep around till 
he does it.” 

“Tell me, once more— do you know where Gideon 
and Helen have been carried?” asked Walter. 

“No— I do not. Oh, I’m all on fire!” 

Walter raised the drooping head higher up, but it 
rested with a leaden weight upon his hands, and he 
could see that the eyes were turning up into the 
head. Then a hoarse gasping wail of anguish broke 
upon the cold air, the Tory’s hands fell heavily upon 
the ground, and the whole body sank, like a lump 
of lead, into quiet. 

Walter Nixon raised the face nearer and gazed 
upon the bloated features, but there were no marks 
of life there, and he let the head down upon the 
ground. He yet knelt by the corpse, when his ears 
caught the sound of a light footfall near him, and 
the rays of a light shot over the place. 

The young man sprang quickly to his feet, and 
raised a pistol. Not more than a rod distant he saw 
the dusky form of a man who held a dark lantern 
by his side, the light of which only served to make 
everything look more dark and gloomy about. 


164 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


CHAPTER XX. 

THE heart’s confession. 

As Walter Xixon noticed that the man began to 
approach he exclaimed : 

“Who comes there?” 

“Nobody that wants to hurt you,” returned the 
new-comer. “Don’t be in a hurry about shootin’, 
for I’ve got a pistol as well as you.” 

Our hero was favorably struck by the sound of 
the stranger’s voice, and instinctively he lowered 
the muzzle of his pistol. 

“Who are you?” he asked. 

“An’ who are you?” was the laconic reply. 

As the stranger came up, he opened his lantern 
and held it up to the face of the young man. 

“I guess you be Captain Nixon,” he said, as he 
lowered the light. 

“You guess rightly, then.” 

“Then I’m nobody but Luke Soper.” 

“Luke Soper!” exclaimed Walter, in tones of wild 
delight. 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Let me grasp your hand. There. God bless you! 
I know you have saved the boy and his sister.” 

“I have, sir,” returned Luke, in a tone of deep 
feeling. “They are where there can’t any harm 
come to ’em. But who is this?” 

“Look, and see if you recognize him.” 

Luke held his lantern close down to the face of 
the dead man. 

“It’s Dow. You’ve finished him, capt’n.” 

“It’s none of my work, Soper.” 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


165 


‘‘None of your work?’^ 

“No, Silas Ryan did it,'’ and thereupon Walter re- 
lated to him all that had transpired. 

“Well,” uttered Luke, as he once more held his 
lantern down to the face of Dow, “this is the last of 
Ryan’s league, and it’s fittin’ that he should die just 
as he did. I think it’s the last. Mason must te 
dead.” 

“Yes, he is dead. He was shot on board my own 
vessel.” 

“I knowed it. Mason was the first, and Silas Ryan 
will be the last!” 

Walter caught a deep meaning in the tones of his 
companion, but he chose to put no question on the 
point, for there were other matters that had the 
precedence. 

“Now tell me of Helen Ryan,” he said. “Where 
is she?” 

“She’s at the house of an old friend of mine, ten 
miles up the river.” 

“Then you must show me the way, for I must 
see her.” 

“That’s just what I came for.” 

“Ah. You knew I should be here?” 

“I didn’t know it; but Gideon said bethought 
you would, some evening this week. We knew your 
vessel was in port.” 

“When are you going to return?” 

“Right away, if you’ll go with me.” 

“Of course I will.” 

“But you won’t be able to see Helen to-night^ for 
she’s almost sick, an’ it’ll be late when we get there ; 
but you can sleep in the house, and thpn see her in 
the morning.” 


166 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


Walter considered upon the subject for several 
moments, and at length he resolved to wait until 
morning, for he feared that old Maynard might be 
uneasy about him. He communicated his thoughts 
to Luke, and the latter at once agreed to take the 
last ebb of the tide early in the morning and come 
down to the brick-yards, and take him back with 
the first fiood. 

When our hero reached the dwelling of Jacob May- 
nard he found the old man and his wife both up, 
and he noticed that they were sad and downcast ; 
but they grew cheerful as he entered, and ere long 
they began to converse with as much life and free- 
dom as ever. 

On the next morning Walter was up early, and 
having requested Maynard to go on board the brig 
during the forenoon and explain the cause of his ab- 
sence, he set off for the brick-yards, where he 
found Luke Soper in waiting. The tide was just 
turning upon the fiood, and the two men set off up 
the river at once, and before nine o’clock they 
landed near the Quaker’s house. 

Walter’s heart fluttered in his bosom as he ap- 
proached the dwelling, and when he entered he 
found the family at breakfast. Helen Ryan sat by 
the side of Mrs. Goodhue, at the head of the table, 
and as the sound of the coming footfalls fell upon 
her delicate ear she started up from her chair, and 
an expression of ineffable joy overspread her beau- 
tiful features. But in a moment she seemed to re- 
member that there were others about her, and she 
sank back into her chair, while a deep blush 
mounted to her cheeks and temples. 

Gideon sprang forward and caught the young 
captain by the hand, and a tear of joy and grati- 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


167 


tilde beamed in his eye as he gazed into the face of 
our hero. 

^'This is Captain Nixon,” said the boy, turning 
toward the old Quaker. 

The old man extended a warm welcome to Wal- 
ter, and gave both him and Luke seats at the table. 

Once the young man opened his lips to speak to 
Helen, but he feared to trust his tones, and he re- 
mained silent. He cast his eyes upon the sweet, 
pensive face that was half turned toward him, and 
he thought he saw a pain-mark resting there. 

After the breakfast things had been cleared away 
Walter was shown into another room. Simon Good- 
hue went down to the river to haul the boats up from 
the tide, the old lady was busy about her household 
affairs, and Gideon, without any apparent cause, 
took his hat and went out to the barn. Walter and 
Helen were left alone, and as yet neither of them 
had spoken to the other. 

At length the young man arose from the chair he 
had occupied and seated himself by the side of the 
blind girl. 

Helen,” he said, in a soft, musical vuice, at the 
same time taking her hand, ‘^are you glad that I 
have come?” 

‘‘Glad?” repeated the girl, while the joy-beams be- 
gan to dance over her face. ^Wes, oh, yes. Are you 
not glad, too?” 

‘Wes, Helen, very glad. I should have been mis- 
erable had I not found you.” 

“Then you love me,”* murmured she. 

“Love!” uttered Walter, starting at the sound of 
that word. 

Helen turned toward her companion, and a strange 
look of fear had fallen upon her countenance. 


168 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


‘‘You do not misunderstand me, I hope?’’ 

“No. I understand you well. I do love you.” 

‘'Then I am happy,” she murmured, with a look 
of inexpressible gratitude. “For long yqars my 
heart has known no friend but my brother, and 
though his love has been a mine of wealth to my 
yearning soul, yet I have longed for the love of some 
one older. Ah, I feared when you came here to-day 
that you had forgotten me.” 

“Forgotten you?” iterated Walter, who was com- 
pletely rapt and puzzled by the girl’s manner. There 
was something inexpressibly soft and sweet in the 
notes that dropped from her tongue, but the lan- 
guage seemed mystical. 

‘T thought you had forgotten me, because you did 
not speak to me,” she answered. “I felt unhappy.” 

“Ah, Helen, you misunderstood me. The warmest 
sentiment of a-ffection is sometimes spoken in si- 
lence.” 

“To you, Walter, it may be, but not to me. All 
silence is to me but dead, meaningless chaos. I 
know that sometimes my face declares the feelings 
of my heart, for I can feel the warm blood rush up 
there ; and then, too, I feel that sorrow can speak 
in silence from my features ; and I can smile when 
I am happy, just as I feel that I am smiling now ; 
and I know that others can read all this, but it is a 
language shut out from me.” 

Walter Nixon gazed into the radiant features of 
Helen Ryan, and for some time he forgot that she 
was blind, for he smiled upon her as though he 
would make her feel happier for his smiles. 

“I know you can be grateful, Helen,” he said at 
length; “and I know of no higher joy that I could 
ask than that you should always owe me your grati- 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


169 


tude. You shall not want for a protector while I 
live.’’ 

‘‘Oh, bless you, kind sir, bless you. And you will 
protect my brother, too?” 

“Yes. He is a noble fellow. He shall not want 
while I have to give.” 

“Then he will be happy, too. Oh, sir, you know 
not how my brother loves you. We are orphans, 
now, and we have no home. You knew that Silas 
Ryan is not our father?” 

“Yes. Luke Soper told me this morning.” 

“Then perhaps, sir, if I live, you might some 
time ” 

The girl hesitated and hung down her head, and 
Walter could see that she looked troubled. 

“What would you ask?” he said, raising up her 
head and drawing her nearer to him. 

“You will not think me forward, sir?” 

“No, Helen. Do not hold such a thought as 
that.” 

“Then, sir, some time, perhaps, you will have a 
home of your own, and you would give me a home 
with you, where I could be happy and contented — 
some place where I could rest in peace, and know 
that I was loved. I should be happy then.” 

Walter Nixon pressed the fair hand he held more 
fondly in his own, and his heart beat with a warm 
and pure emotion. 

“Helen ” he said, almost in a whisper, “if I live 
you shall have such a home, and it shall be a bright 
and happy one.” 

“I shall not be altogether a burden to you. There 
will be a thousand little things I can do. I can be 
with your children, and sing to them; and lean 


170 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


sew and knit ; and you shall be a father to me, and 
love me as though I were your own child.’’ 

‘‘A father?” uttered Walter, as the full meaning 
of his companion flashed upon him. 

‘‘Yes,” frankly and unsuspectingly returned 
Helen; “you will love me as a child, and then I can 
look up to you for counsel and advice.” 

“And in what can I advise you? — in what counsel 
you?” 

“In anything that will make me better and hap- 
pier.” 

“And do you think I could lead you in a path 
more pure than that in which you already tread?” 

“Is not happiness conducive to purer thoughts 
and feelings?” asked the fair girl, with simple grace 
and expression. “Can one be so pure in all the im- 
pulses of the heart, when that heart is crushed by 
wrong and oppression? Will there not be at times 
feelings and wishes — sudden risings of passionate 
despondency — which are not pure in the sight of 
God?” 

“Perhaps you are right, Helen.” 

“I thank you,” said the girl, with a glowing coun- 
tenance. “And then there would be many thirgs 
that you could teach me that I do not know now — 
and knowledge leads to purity.” 

“And do you think you would be happy to come 
and live with me?” 

“Yes, oh, yes.” 

“But suppose I could And some kind man who 
would take you now — who would love you and teach 
you — some one who is older and more experienced 
than I am; you would be happy then?” 

“No, no.” 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


171 


‘‘And why not?” asked Walter, as he keenly 
watched his companion’s countenance. 

“Because his voice would not be yours. It would 
not be you. It would not be the one who saved my 
life in the dark wood, and who was the first to teach 
me to know that others could love me than my 
brother.” 

“Helen” — and the young man spoke in a low, soft 
whisper — “if I ever make a house of my own I shall 
want you to come and live with me ; but I cannot 
be a father to you.” 

“Oh, do not say that, sir.” 

“I speak truly, Helen.” 

“Then you cannot love me as I had hoped.” 

“Listen. There is a warmer, a tenderer love than 
that. There is a tie more strong.” 

Helen seemed for a moment trembling between 
doubt and fear ; but her features soon grew calm, 
and she turned her face inquiringly toward her com- 
panion. She felt the breath that struck her cheek, 
and there was a warm kiss imprinted upon her 
brow. She started ” beneath the magic touch, but 
she was not offended, nor was she frightened, for 
there was a happy smile broke over her features. 

“Does not your own heart tell you my meaning?” 
Walter asked. 

“Oh, I wish I could see your face,” she mur 
mured. “Perhaps I could read it there.” 

“If you could see it, you would read there the 
light of a pure and ardent love. I will be plain with 
you, Helen. I would make you a companion for life 
— I would make you my wife.” 

Helen Ryan reached forth the hand that was at 
liberty, and rested it upon the shoulder of her com- 
panion, and for several moments she remained si- 


172 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


lently in that position. There was no doubt, no fear, 
no tremblins^ upon her lovely features, but she 
seemed to be dwelling within the depths of her own 
heart. At length she spoke. It was in a calm, sweet 
tone : 

“Would you make the poor blind girl your wife?’’ 

“Yes, Helen, I would.” 

“And never murmur, nor sorrow, nor feel un- 
happy, because her eyes were closed forever?” 

“I could do naught but love her the more.” 

“Ah, I fear you know not your own heart. I could 
love you, and be as faithful as heaven itself, be- 
cause I owe you everything; but not so with you. 
You would owe me nothing, and I should be but a 
burden on your hands.” 

“Answer me this question, Helen. What could 
give you more exquisite pleasure than to feel that 
you possessed the full gratitude of others? — that 
you were the means of making others happy?” 

“N'othing. That would be heaven.” 

“And that is the happiness I seek. I could love 
you the more because of your misfortune, and I 
could still ask you to become my wife.” 

Now Helen trembled. A spark that had burned 
in her bosom now burst forth to a flame. 

“Some time we will speak of this again,” she mur- 
mured. 

“Yes, we will speak of it often; but yet you can 
answer me now.” 

“Walter Nixon,” said the beautiful girl, in a 
calm, frank tone, “I give myself to you, and you can 
do as your own heart shall dictate. If you should 
choose for yourself a life companion more fortunate 
than myself, you would ^till give me a home, and I 
should be happy.” 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


173 


*^And would you be so happy to feel that another 
claimed my tenderest care and love.^’’ asked Walter 
with a voice tuned to the deepest meaning. “Could 
you feel perfectly happy to know that you were 
only second in my affections? — that my fondest 
words and holiest aspirations were not for you?’^ 

“Oh, no, I should not be so happy. I know I 
should not ; but I would not be envious — I would 
not complain. You have a right to take another for 
yourwife.’^ 

“But I have no right to trample under foot the 
holy affections of my own heart, Helen. I have no 
right to blight the sweetest flowers that ever yet 
sprung up in my pathway. I should lie to my own 
soul, should I take another than you for my wife, 
and I should lie to her to whom I should offer an 
empty heart. You must be my wife, sweet Helen. 

“I cannot say nay. Do with me as you please; 
but, oh, raise not a hope so heavenly in my bosom 
that may be crushed.’’ 

“Fear not,” said Walter, as he wound his arms 
about the fair being and pressed her to his bosom. 
“Let your hope rest in life, for death alone shall put 
out its torch.” 

“Ah, even death may not extinguish it, Walter; 
for if heaven be such a home as I have believed, 
where the freed spirit shall know the friends of 
earth, then our loves will be more beautiful than 
ever. Oh, Walter,” continued the fair girl, her 
face glovdng with holy enthusiasm, “I shall see in 
heaven ; the scales will drop from my eyes, and I 
shall drink in the beauties of God’s great universe. 
I shall see my father and mother there, too. Oh, 
we shall know and love each other in heaven, else 
it would not be a home.” 


174 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


At that moment they heard the rustling of Mrs. 
Goodhue’s tidy dress, and soon they were joined by 
the dame herself. Gideon soon afterward came into 
the apartment, and so did Luke Soper ; but Simon 
Goodhue came not. 

‘‘Where is our old friend?” asked Walter. 

“He’s gone away,” returned the good dame. 

“Then I shall not see him again. However, I sup- 
pose he had business.” 

“Oh, he may be back before you go, for of course 
you will stop and take dinner with us?” 

“Perhaps I may.” 

“Then you will see him again, and perhaps ” 

Mrs. Goodhue stopped and looked at Luke. The 
latter shook his head in a meaning manner, and 
nothing more was said. 

Walter’s curiosity was excited, but he had too 
much good sense to ask any questions. 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


175 


CHAPTER XXI. 

‘^IHE LAST LINK IS BEOKEN.’^ 

Simon Goodhue did return before dinner-time, and 
when he entered the house his face looked strangely. 
There was a mixture of hope and fear, of doubt and 
anxiety, upon his features, and for a long time after 
he took a seat he remained in deep meditation. At 
length he arose and beckoned for Luke to follow 
him, and the two went forth to the barn, where 
they remained for some time. 

‘‘Mr. Goodhue,^’ said Walter, as he drew the old 
Quaker one side after dinner, “you must pardon me 
if I seem over-curious, but yet I cannot avoid ask- 
ing you if Gideon and Helen Ryan have any inter- 
est in the business you have been upon this fore- 
noon?’’ 

“Verily they have, friend Mxon.’’ 

“May I not ask the nature of it?” 

“Thee may ask, certainly; but I would rather not 
answer thee now.” 

“You Know not the deep interest 1 take in their 
welfare, friend Goodhue.” 

“Yes, I do, young man, for I heard Helen, only a 
few minutes ago, telling to her brother what thee 
had been saying to her. There, thee need not look 
troubled, friend Nixon, for thee has a noble heart, 
and thee has shown it in thine offer to that sweet 
girl.” 

“Then if you know all, you cannot refuse to tell 
me of what may tend to the benefit of those two 
beings.” 

“Of course I cannot; but I can bid thee wait. I 


176 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


would not set thy heart upon the rack by telling 
thee of that which I have thought.’^ 

‘‘You have placed my heart upon the rack al- 
ready, friend Goodhue. 

“No, no,” returned the Quaker, with a meaning 
smile. “It was thine own curiosity did it. Now, I 
ask thee, as a man, to wait.” 

Walter Nixon could ask no more; and though he 
tried hard to curb the strange curiosity that had 
beset him, and which gave him not a little uneasi- 
ness, yet he found it impossible. 

Once more our hero pressed Helen to his bosom 
and kissed her. He told her he would come and 
see her as soon as his vessel again arrived in port, 
and he bade her be happy and contented, assuring 
her that Goodhue and Luke would protect her. He 
bade a kind adieu to Gideon, and the Quaker and 
his wife, and then he and Luke started for the river, 
and then returned with the boat. 

The tide was upon the ebb, but the wind blew 
strongly from the northeast, and it was with some 
difficulty that the boat Avas rowed. The wind set- 
ting against the tide caused an unusual commotion 
on the surface of the water, and the waves dashed 
over the light boat, sending the cold spray, with 
anything but a welcome sensation over the half- 
benumbed oarsmen. 

At a point nearly three miles above the brick- 
yards, Walter raised his oar from the water, and 
gazed along upon the shore. 

“Is there not a good path from here to the old 
brick-yards?” he asked. 

“Yes,” returned Luke. 

“Then let us put in here, and I will walk the rest 
of the way. I can do it easier and quicker.” 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


17.7 


Luke seemed pleased with the idea, and soon the 
boat was run up on the sand. 

‘‘I declare, I must bail her out,” said Luke, as he 
gazed into the bottom of the boat, which was nearly 
a third full of water. 

“It would be more agreeable, certainly; but what 
will you do it with?” returned Walter, noticing that 
there was no dipper on board. 

“Oh, that’s easy enough. I’ll run up and strip off 
a piece of birch bark. It’ll be just the thing.” 

“Then I’ll stay by the boat while you go.” 

“There’s no need of that; she’ll be safe enough. 
I sha’n’t be gone but a minute.” 

As Soper spoke he started up the bank and soon 
disappeared; but Walter remained by the boat, 
half through inclination, and half through a sort of 
instinctive prompting that had no palpable mani- 
festation. 

Not long had Luke been gone— not over three min- 
utes — when the young man was startled by the loud 
report of a pistol, and in an instant more a second 
report broke upon his ear. He hesitcited a moment, 
and then he darted up the bank. He could see by 
the bending of the bushes where Luke had gone, 
and he pushed his way in the same direction, and 
ere long he heard a noise, as though of a fierce 
struggle, accompanied by the rustling of dry leaves. 
Snatching a pistol from his pocket he hastened on, 
and upon reaching the spot from whence the sound 
proceeded, he found Luke Soper upon the ground, 
and with him, clutched in a powerful embrace, was 
a man whom Nixon at once recognized as Silas 
Ryan. There was blood upon their bodies, and they 
had evidently both been wounded. They were 


178 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


writhing and twisting in fierce strength, each try- 
ing to get upon his knees and keep the other down. 

Walter would have fired, but he dared not, for 
fear he might shoot his own friend, and knowing 
not what course to pursue, he stood for a moment a 
silent spectator of the scene. But he could not re- 
main idle long. He knew the aims of Ryan, and he 
felt it to be his duty to interfere in behalf of Luke. 

‘^Luke,’’ he cried, leaping toward the spot, ‘‘throw 
me your knife. Where is it?’’ 

The sound of that voice seemed to startle Silas 
Ryan, and he turned his head to see who had 
spoken. In an instant Luke saw his advantage, 
and disengaging his hand with a powerful effort, he 
seized his adversary by the throat. Then, with one 
mighty heave, as he gathered all his strength for 
the trial, he turned the villain upon his back, and a 
moment more he was uppermost with the right 
hand free. Walter saw a knife gleam suddenly in 
the light, and on the next instant Soper sprang to 
his feet, the wound he had received being but a very 
slight one on the thigh. 

“There, Silas Ryan,” he uttered, “you have made 
your own end. God knows ’twas no seeking of 
mine.” 

The villain started upon his elbow and glared 
wildly about him. There was a hot glow in his eyes 
as they rested upon Soper, and he vainly endeavored 
to reach the knife that was sheathed in his girdle. 
Soon, however, he placed his hand upon his left 
breast, from whence was pouring a purple stream, 
and as a deep groan of pain escaped him, he ut- 
tered : 

“Luke Soper, you’ve killed me/^ 

“You tried to kill me first, Sila^ Ryan.” 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


179 


Again the dying man made an abortive effort to 
reach the handle of his knife. 

“Oh, I wish I could reach you now,” he gasped, 
as the elbow that sustained him began to weaken. 

“You can’t, Silas Eyan. Your days on earth are 
numbered. You won’t kill any more people.” 

“Kill! Ha, ha, ha— you killed them, too, Luke 
Soper. You can’t wash the blood from your hands. 
Don’t you remember how they cried for mercy?” 

“Oh, cease, cease,” groaned Soper, turning deadly 
pale, and quaking at every joint. 

“Luke, Luke,” whispered Ryan, looking vacantly 
up with eyes that had now become glassy; “where 
are those two children?” 

“They are safe.” 

“Luke, remember you— kill them! kill them! 
Don’t let them live! I swore that— Luke, Luke ” 

Silas Ryan said no more, for with that last word 
the lamp of his life went out. 

“ He’s dead!” said Walter, as he stepped nearer to 
the corpse. 

Luke Soper made no answer, but silently he 
gazed upon the face of the man he had slain. 

“Let us go from here now,” continued our hero. 

“No, no, wait a moment,” said Luke. 

As he spoke he knelt down by the side of Ryan 
and tore open the shirt. Upon that blood-stained 
bosom, and suspended to the neck by a silken cord, 
was a golden locket, which Luke took in his hand 
and slipped from the string. 

“What!” exclaimed Walter, “did that wretch 
still hold a spark of love in his bosom?” 

“Love?” repeated Luke. “No. This he wore to 
keep alive his vengeance. He wore it because he 
hated the one it looked like. Whenever he saw it 


180 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


he used to curse and swear, and grit his teeth, and 
then he would be more ugly than ever. No, sir, he 
didn’t know how to love.” 

“And who is it the picture of?” 

“Helen’s mother. Silas Ryan murdered her.” 

“Let me look at it.” 

“Take it. You’ll see it looks like Helen and Gid- 
eon both.” 

The locket contained the miniature of a beautiful 
female, in the bloom of youth. Walter took it in 
his hand. 

“Good heavens!” he exclaimed, as his eyes rested 
upon the picture; “do you speak truly when you 
say this is Helen’s mother?” 

“Yes. But what’s the matter?” 

“Nothing, nothing.” 

“But there must be something. Did you know 
her?” asked Luke, gazing in astonishment upon the 
young man’s working features. 

“Know h r?” repeated V/alter, abstractedly. 
“Yes, Luke, yes. I must keep this for the present.” 

“Perhaps she was a friend of yours?” 

“Yes, yes, she was.” 

“A relation?” slowly queried Luke. 

“I must keep it.” 

“But you will give it to Helen. I took it for her; 
for though she can’t see it, yet I know she would 
love to wear it next to her bosom.” 

“She shall have it, Luke. Come, let’s go now. I 
will send some one from the town to dispose of this 
body.” 

Luke Soper cast one more look at the dead man, 
and then he turned away from the spot where lay 
the last of the Tory league. His thoughts were busy 
with the past, and Walter could see that there was 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


181 


a load of bitterness upon his soul^ and that he was 
sad and grief-stricken. 

At the river they separated, Luke jumping into 
the boat, without noticing the water it contained, 
while Walter took his way toward the brick-yards; 
having first, however, obtained from the former a 
promise that he would look well to the safety of 
Helen, and say nothing about the finding of the 
locket, as it would only serve to open her tender 
mind afresh to the misfortunes of the past. 

It was nearly dusk when Walter reached the 
dwelling of Jacob Maynard, but the old man had 
gone on board the brig, and our hero learned from 
Mrs. Maynard that some news had been received at 
the port relating to the movements of the British. 
Walter hastened away, and having obtained a man 
to set him across the river, he made the best of his 
way to ihe town, whence he easily found a convey- 
ance to his brig. 

As he stepped upon the deck he was met by a 
stranger, wearing the same uniform with himself. 

‘^Captain Mxon, I believe,’^ said the stranger, step- 
ping forward and extending his hand. 

“At your service, sir,’^ returned Walter, eying 
with interest the noble countenance of his interloc- 
utor. 

“My name is Manly, sir, John Manly.’’ 

“A noble name for a noble man,” uttered Nixon, 
as he shook the hand of the bold captain, who was 
one of the first to open the flag of America’s infant 
navy to the sea-breeze. * 

“I bear you a letter of thanks, sir, from General 
Washington, and a more important commission 
than that which you now hold. There lies my ves- 
sel in the offing. Not quite so handsome a craft as 


182 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


yours, but she’s a faithful one. We will go to your 
cabin, if you please.” 

Nixon led the way with a buoyant step, and he 
called for his officers to follow him. Manly had been 
sent to inform him that there were two heavy ships 
about to sail from Halifax loaded with military 
stores, and Washington had desired that the Lee 
(Manly’s vessel) and the Yankee Champion should 
cruise in company, and capture them if possible. 

^^My brig is ready at this moment,” said Nixon, 
with a sparkling eye, as he finished the fiattering 
letter of Washington and passed it over to his offi- 
cers. ‘‘You will take the weather gage. Captain 
Manly?” 

“I will, if you please.” 

“Of course. You are the oldest commander.” 

Shortly afterward Manly went on board his own 
vessel, and in less than an hour the Yankee Cham- 
pion was once more on her way out of the harbor, 
being just able to keep the channel on a taut bow- 
line. 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


183 


CHAPTER XXII. 

CONCLUSION. 

It was nearly a month before Walter Nixon again 
entered port, and then Captain Manly and himself 
carried two heavy ships into the harbor of Ports- 
mouth. They were valuable prizes, and they had 
been captured without the loss of life. 

Nixon left his vessel under the charge of Baker, 
and in company with J acob Maynard, he started for 
the residence of the latter. Mrs. Maynard was made 
once more happy — if a burst of joy can be called 
happiness — at seeing her husband, and she greeted 
the gallant young captain with enthusiasm. With 
a quick step she hastened about among the closets 
and cupboards, and soon had a substantial meal pre- 
pared for the new-comers. 

“What is the matter, captain?’’ asked Maynard, 
as he noticed that Nixon had remained long silent, 
and appeared to be lost to what was passing about 
him. 

The young man started and gazed vacantly upon 
the old man, and then his eyes rested upon the dame. 

“Do you remember the scene that passed between 
you and me a month ago in my cabin?” 

“Yes,” returned Maynard, while a look of gloom 
settled over his features. 

“Well, it was upon that I was thinking. If you 
remember, we both had reason to be curious. Now, 
I wish you to tell me the secret of the tears I saw 
you shed then, and of much of the strangeness I 
have seen in your manners since.” 


184 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


“It would do you no good to hear my story, and it 
would only pain me in its recital.’’ 

“Are you afraid to trust me, Maynard?” 

“No, captain, I am not.” 

“Then I assure you it will do me much good to 
hear your story, and it may be a source of good to 
yourself.” 

“I see not how, captain.” 

“You have my assurance — now trust me.” 

There was a strange light in Walter’s counte- 
nance, and Maynard failed not to notice it. He 
turned an inquisitive look toward his wife. 

“Tell him, Jacob,” said she. 

The old man’s head sank upon his open palm, and 
it rested there for several moments. When he 
raised it he brushed a tear from his eye, and com- 
menced : 

“Years ago, captain, T was a happy, contented 
young man, and lived in Concord, only a few rods 
from the house where you were born. There was a 
lovely girl lived near me, and I loved her and asked 
her to be my wife. She consented. In the same 
neighborhood there was a reckless, dissipated fel- 
low who also professed to love the girl that had 
promised to be mine. When he found that she had 
become aflBanced to me he swore by the most ter- 
rible oaths that we should never be married. He 
was then following the sea, and before he went on 
his next voyage he saw the girl and called on 
Heaven to witness his words while he swore that if 
she married me, her life should be made one of gall 
and bitterness. After he had gone we were married, 
and for three years we heard nothing more from 
him. During that time we had a daughter and a 
son, and even then the villain’s oath seemed to 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


185 


have taken effect, for when our darling Helen was 
two years of age, she was stricken with utter blind- 
ness ; but we loved her the more for that. Our boy 
was yet an infant when our enemy returned, and 
for three weeks he lurked about the place without 
manifesting any open hostility. At length, how- 
ever, he came to my house one day when I was 
away, and grossly insulted my wife. She spit upon 
him and spurned him. He seemed to be actuated 
by the spirit of a demon, for he would have killed 
her then had I not returned while he was yet there. 
My wife flew to my arms and told me what had 
transpired. Do not let this affect .you so, Susan. 

‘‘Go on, Jacob, I cannot help it/' said she. 

“Well, sir, you can imagine what must have been 
my feelings at that moment. I had a heavy staff in 
my hand, and I knocked the fellow down and then 
kicked him from the house. That night my dwell- 
ing was entered by the villain, and he had an ac- 
complice with him, who seemed to have come only 
to keep watch. I heard — it was after midnight — a 
sharp cry from my little daughter, who during the 
warm weather slept in a little room adjoining our 
own, and hastily slipping from my bed I ran to see 
what was the matter. At the door I was met by a 
man who struck me with a knife. I grappled with 
the assassin, and on the same instant I saw my 
enemy dart past me toward the bed where lay my 
wife, and by the bright moonbeams I could see that 
he had a knife in his hand. Oh, I cannot describe 
the bloody scene that followed ! Suffice it for me to 
say that we were left for dead, and when we re- 
turned to consciousness it was broad daylight, and 
we were surrounded by our neighbors ; but our chil- 
dren — our sweet girl and our innocent infant — were 


186 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


not to be found ! The town was in arms, and scout- 
ing parties were sent in all directions, but all to no 
effect. Blood was found about the house, and in all 
probability our sweet innocents were murdered and 
their bodies hidden. Since then life has been almost 
a burden to both me and my wife. We stayed in our 
native town but a short time after the fearful event, 
and then went to New York. There I plunged into 
the excitement of maritime business, and I made 
money. A few years ago I came to this place. The 
brick-yards were for sale, and as it was a retired 
spot, where none ever passed except on business at 
the yards, I took it. My workmen were uneducated, 
free-hearted men, and at length I became so used to 
their mode of thought and expression that I became 
almost like them in my manners. When you fitted 
out your brig I longed for the excitement the oppor- 
tunity afforded. I had not forgotten the seamanship 
of my younger days, and I had brushed it up some 
while running out of New York. The rest you know. 
Is it not fearful?” 

‘‘What was the name of the villain who tried to 
murder you?” asked Walter. 

“Silas Eyan,” returned Maynard, with a fearful 
shudder, and then, as he wiped his eyes, he contin- 
ued: 

“You have heard it now. Do you think the re- 
cital has benefited you?” 

“It has at least satisfied me on one point,” said 
Walter. “You are the same man of whom I have 
heard my father speak, and most of your story I 
heard %vhen I was a boy.” 

“Then I trust your satisfaction is complete?” 

“Not yet, Jacob Maynard, not yet. I have not 
wrenched your heart-strings from the promptings of 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


187 


mere curiosity. I have something in my possession 
which I found a month ago. Look upon your wife, 
Maynard, and say if she does not still hold much of 
the beauty of her youth 

“She does, captain. 

“And here is youth itself!’^ said Walter, as he 
drew forth the miniature and handed it to his com- 
panion. 

The old man’s eyes fell upon the sweet face that 
smiled from that ivory surface, and starting wildly 
from his seat he clutched the golden locket in his 
grasp. 

“This— this — was taken from me on that fearful 
night,” he articulated. “Where did you find it?” 

“It was taken from the stiff, cold corpse of Silas 
Ryan!” 

“And did you know him?” uttered Maynard, who 
seemed— if the term may so be used — to have sunk 
into a powerless frenzy. 

“Where— oh, where?” 

“He has lived for years not more than five miles 
from this spot. ” 

“Oh, heavens! and I never knew it. But then he’s 
dead now, and I’ll cherish revenge no longer.” 

Susan Maynard only wept more bitterly as she 
gazed upon the locket, and when she gave it back 
to her husband she had no power to speak. 

“I will keep this,” murmured Jacob. 

“Not now,” said Walter. “I have promised to 
give it to another.” 

The old man looked at the young captain in won- 
der. 

“Who else on earth can claim it?” he cried, 

“Could you bear to hear it?” 

Jacob Maynard started as a lightning-fiash of 


188 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


thought whirled wildly through his brain. He 
stepped forward and laid his hand softly upon W al- 
ter’s shoulder, and in a low whisper he said: 

‘‘Speak 

“Then,’’ returned Walter, “I have promised to 
give it to one who would cherish it as the counter- 
feit of her mother. Her sightless eyes may never 
behold its sweetness, but her heart would beat 
fondly to feel that the loved image was near her. 
Another, too — a fair-haired youth — will grasp 
it ” 

Ere Walter could finish a wild cry broke from the 
lips of Susan Maynard, and starting up from her 
chair she would have rushed to her husband, but her 
strength failed her, and she sank upon the fioor. 
Jacob and Walter both sprang to her assistance, 
and having lifted her into a chair, she soon opened 
her eyes. 

“Did I dream?” she murmured, gazing for a mo- 
ment vacantly about. Then her eyes were fastened 
upon Walter. “It was you who spoke,” she cried, 
starting up and seizing the young man by the arm. 
“Tell me, sir, oh, do tell me, do my children live?” 

“A month ago I left them well and happy. They 
are but a few miles from here, with one who will 
protect them. In the morning we will go to them.” 

Susan Maynard let go the arm of Walter and tot- 
tered toward her husband, and as her head fell 
upon his bosom he wound his arms about her, and, 
speechless and frantically, they wept till their tears 
formed a stream that might have watered the joy- 
plants of heaven. 

On the next morning Jacob Maynard had his 
sledge early at the door, and into it stepped the old 
man, his wife, and Walter. The ice upon the river 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


189 


was solid enough for heavy traveling, and they took 
that smooth, frozen track. The horse was a power- 
ful one, and as he sprang onward in his course he 
seemed almost conscious of the happy mission he 
was thus aiding. No words were spoken until they 
reached the Quaker’s dwelling. Walter requested 
Jacob and his wife to remain in his sledge till he 
had first gone in and prepared the way. 

The young man’s summons at the door was an- 
swered by the old Quaker himself. Goodhue would 
have spoken to those who sat in the sledge, but a 
look from Walter kept him silent. 

‘‘Is Helen well?” the young man asked. 

“Yes. You shall see for yourself,” and as the 
Quaker spoke he led the way to the room where sat 
the good dame, Helen, Gideon, and Luke Soper. 

Walter cast his eyes upon Helen. How wonder- 
fully had the altered in one short month ! The bloom 

of ruddy health was upon her cheek, and What 

a sensation was that? 

Helen arose from her seat and turned her beam- 
ing face upon our hero. 

“Don’t speak, sir,” she uttered, as she bent 
eagerly, wistfully forward. “Don’t let me hear your 
voice. Don’t move, for I should know your step. 
Oh, my eyes do not deceive me! ‘Tis Walter!” 

“Yes, my own dear Helen, I am thy Walter.” 

“Oh, I knew it, for I can see your face. Walter, 
I can see! I can see!” 

Walter Nixon would have spoken, but at this mo- 
ment the door was burst open, and Jacob Maynard 
and his wife entered. They had not been able to 
wait longer. Their parent’s hearts were on the rack. 

“Where are my cihldren, oh, where?” wildly cried 
the mother, as she gazed about her. 


190 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


‘‘Helen/’ whispered Walter, “look upon that 
woman. Does your soul hold her image yet?” 

The fair girl turned her eyes upon the new-comer, 
and the fond image she had cherished for years in 
her heart’s memory stood before her a living reality. 
The magic words that had so long dwelt in her 
soul’s tablets fell tremblingly from her lips. The 
mother caught it, and hope was anchored in the 
blessed haven of full fruition. The father and the 
mother, the son and the daughter, were once more 
dwelling in the embrace of such a love as makes 
angels happy. 

Luke Soper had during this time been in the back- 
ground, but his emotions were far from uninterest- 
ing. He had fallen upon his knees and clasped his 
hands toward heaven, and he thanked God that he 
was not a murderer. He confessed that he was the 
man who had accompanied Silas Ryan on the night 
that Maynard and his wife were to have been mur- 
dered, and that it was he who first struck the for- 
mer. Ryan had made him believe that the woman 
was his own wife, and that the children were his, 
and that Maynard had seduced them away from 
him; and then, partly by threats and partly by 
promises, he had been induced to assist in the foul 
deed. It was several years before Luke learned the 
deception that had been practiced upon him, and 
then his heart smote him ; but he had dipped his 
hand in blood, and Silas Ryan held him by the 
strong chain of guilt. At length he had feared that 
Ryan might murder him, for he had determined to 
protect the children from further wrong, and so he 
came to Simon Goodhue and confessed the whole ; 
making the old Quaker promise that he would keep 
the secret, and, in case Ryan should kill him (Luke), 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


191 


that he would expose the villain and secure the chil- 
dren. 

But while Luke Soper stood thus, with various 
emotions alternating in his mind, who can paint the 
feelings of old Jacob Maynard, as he held his son 
and daughter to his bosom? 

‘‘You told me she was blind?’’ he uttered, in ear- 
nest tones. 

“So she was when the young man last saw her,” 
said the Quaker, before Walter could answer. “But 
she’s blind no longer. A man well skilled in such 
matters lives not far. from here, and I got him to see 
the girl. It was but a thick film that had grown 
over the eyes, and he dextrously removed it. That, 
friend Nixon, was the errand I had been upon on 
the day that thee was so inquisitive. The doctor 
knew not then that he could remove the difficulty, 
and I would not raise thy hopes without good 
cause.” 

Luke Soper’s deep contrition, and the unswerving 
faithfulness with which he had watched over the 
children, were ample reasons for his forgiveness, 
and he was blessed. 

“Now, Jacob Maynard,” said Nixon, “I will give 
you the miniature, but in return you shall give me 
this,” taking Helen’s hand. 

The old father and mother were too happy to 
speak, but when they saw the soft love-light that 
beamed in the eyes of their daughter, they knew 
that her own happiness was locked up in the keep- 
ing of him who had so truly brought about the pres- 
ent hour of bliss, and they gave their beautiful 
child into the keeping and care of Walter Nixon for- 
ever. Darkness could surround her no more, and 


192 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 


our hero was forced to admit that he could love her 
none the less now that she was no longer blind. 

Years rolled on, and the Yankee Champion still 
proudly bore her flag to the breeze. She struck ter- 
ror to the foreign foe, and her batteries thundered 
over many a capture of the enemy. 

It was a beautiful day in April. Upon the banks 
of the Merrimac stood a noble dwelling, and be- 
neath the piazza sat an old man and woman, and a 
lovely female who was laughing and playing with 
two curly-headed children that gamboled at her 
feet. Suddenly the tramp of horses broke upon the 
air, and soon two men, the older dressed in the uni- 
form of a naval captain, and the other as lieutenant, 
rode up to the steps^and leaped from their saddles. 
The former sprang toward the female who played 
with the children, and clasped her to his bosom. 

‘‘Helen, Helen, my own sweet wife,’^ he ex- 
claimed. “I am back again once more. And my 
children, oh, bliss!’’ 

Walter Nixon raised his children in his arms, and 
as he fondly kissed them, the young and happy wife 
went to meet her brother, for Gideon, too, had re- 
turned from the performance of the noble patriot’s 
duty, to And a warm welcome to the bosoms of his 
aged parents and his sister. 

“Oh, Walter,” uttered the fond wife, as she clung 
about her husband’s neck, “must you leave me 
again?” 

“No, no, sweet Helen, I shall go from your side 
no more. The sword I received from the hands of 
my dying father has done its duty, and God grant 
that henceforth and forever it may rest honorably 
in its scabbard. Father, mother, wife,” he contin- 
ued, while a halo of holy joy lit up his noble fea- 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION. 193 

tures, ‘^open wide your hearts and give praise to 
God. The foe has been conquered ! England has 
drawn back her trembling foot from our soil! The 
rattle of musketry and the roar of cannons have 
ceased. A million hearts are shouting the glorious 
paean— Amer] c a is free 1 ’ ’ 

THE END. 


BEN HAMED; 

OR, 

THE CHTLDKEISr OF FATE. 


By SYLVANUS COBB, Jr. 


Street& Smith’s Sea and Shore Seriesi No.8. 

25 Oexxts. . 


WHAT THE PKESS SAT OP IT. 

•*Ben Hamed” is an Oriental romance by Sylvanua Cobb, wbicb recalls 
the deliglitt'ul stories of tbe “Arabian Nights,”, without their supernatural 
etfects. Indeed, our old friend Harouu A1 Raschid figures prominently in 
this work, and is closely identified with the hero and heroine— the devoted 
Assad and the fair Morgiana. It is a romance of pure love, with an in- 
genious and cleverly sustained plot.— G'rmicZ Rapids Democrat, Aug. 8. 

“Ben Hamed” is the title of an Oriental romance not unlike the stories of 
the “Arabian Nights.” It is a romance of pure love. A number of strong 
characters combine with the hero and heroine in the solution of an ingenious 
Harrisburg PatHot, July 23. 

Street & Smith of New York have published “Ben Hamed; or. The Chil- 
dren of Fate,” by Sylvanus Cobb, Jr., which is No. 8 of the Sea and Shore 
Series. This book is an Oriental romance, which recalls the “Arabian 
Nights,” without their supernatural effects. The plot is ingenious and well 
sustained, and brings out a romance of i)ure love in a charming manner.— 
•^San Francisco Morning Call, July 21, 

“Ben Hamed” is an Oriental romance by Sylvanus Cobb, Jr., published in 
paper by Street & Smith, New York city. It is clever in the way that all of 
Cobb’s stories are cIqyqv.— Indianapolis News, July 20. 

“Ben Hamed is a capital story, pro^essive in action, interesting from 
the opening line, and with a charming love romance, on which are strung 
many remarkable incidents. — Acton Star, July 21. 

A capital story of Eastern life, which must have been suggested by a 
perusal of the “Arabian Nights,” is Sylvanus Cobb’s Oriental narrative of 
“Ben Hamed ; or. The Children of Fate.” It is admirably told, full of in- 
terest, and cannot fail to charm all who begin its perusal. — ilfo?itona 
Sun, Sept. 22. 

Street & Smith, of the New York Weekly, have published “Ben 
Hamed; or. The Children of Fate,” by Sylvanus Cobb, Jr. This is an 
Oriental romance, accentuated by a very strong and ingenious plot.— 
Paul Pioneer Press, July 21. 

Street & Smith, New York, publish in paper covers “Ben Hamed,” an 
Oriental romance, by Sylvanus Cobb, which recalls the delightful stories of 
the “Arabian Nights,”, without their supernatural eff'ects.” — Cincinnati 
Enquirer. 

“Ben Hamed,” an Oriental romance, by Sylvanus Cobb, is published by 
Street & Smith, New York. It is one of Cobb’s characteristic romances, 
Haroun A1 Raschid being a prominent figure. There is nothing strained or 
unnatural in “Ben Hamed,” it recalling the stories of the “Arabian Nights,’* 
Without their supernatural Minneapolis Ti'^une, July 21. 


Oir» 


POPULAR AMERICAN COPYRIGHT NOVELS, 

BY NOTABLE AUTHORS. 


INTO- -3=. 



OR, 


THE WEAVER’S WAR. 


By PROFESSOR WM. HENRY PECK, 

AUTHOR OF 

‘‘Marlin Mardiike,” “dS 15,000 Howard,” “Siballa, 
the Sorceress,” etc. 


From the very opening paragraph this powerful and intensely exciting 
romance enchains the attention and keeps curiosity constantly active. The 
scene opens in the manufacturing center of Lyons, during a troublesome 
period in her history, when the laboring classes strove to maintain their 
rights against the nobility. The hero, whom fate has made an humble 
workman, finds opportunity for the display of those self-asserting qualities, 
which always force their possessor to the front in every contest. While 
most of the action is thrilling and dramatic, a captivating love episode is 
adroitly interwoven with the main thread of the romance. The mystery 
appertaining to the early life of the Locksmith, the appalling accusation 
which makes him the victim of unseen foes, his fortitude in the most trying 
positions, and his final vindication and reward, are forcibly and sympatheti' 
cally set forth in this well constructed story. 


RRICE, CENTS. 


STREET & SMITH, Publishers, 

p* O. Box, 2734. 31 ROSE STREET, New York* 


Sea and Shore Series 


Stories of Strange Adventnre Afloat and Ashore. 


Issneil MdMy. PRICE, 25 GENTS EACH. FnllTlIliisIraU 


The above-named series is issued in clear, large type, uniform in size with 
“The Select Series,^’ and will consist of the most thrilling and 
ingeniously constructed stories, by popular and experienced writers in the 
field of fiction. The following books are now ready : 

No. 17— FEDORA, founded on the famous play of the same name^ 
by Victorien Sardou. 

No. 16-SIBALLA, THE SORCERESS, by Prof. Wm. H. Peck. 
No. 15-THE HOLDEN EAGLE, by Sylvanus Cobb, Jr. 

No. ll-THE FORTUNE-TELLER OF NEW ORLEANS, by 
Prof. Wm. Henry Peck. 

No. 13-THE IRISH HONTE CRISTO ABROAD, by Alex. 
Robertson, M. D. 

No. 12— HELD FOR RANSOM, by Lieutenant Murray. 

No. 11-THE IRISH MONTE CRISTO’S SEARCH, by Alex. 
Robertson, M. D. 

No. 10— LA TOSCA, from the celebrated play, by Tictorien 
Sardou. 

No. 9-THE MAN IN BLUE, by Mary A. Denison. 

No. 8-BEN HAMED, by Sylvanus Cobb, Jr. 

No. 7-CONFESSIONS OF LINSKA. 

No. 6-THE MASKED LADY, by Lieutenant Murray. 

No. 5— THEODORA, fi’om the celebrated play^ by Yictorien 
Sardou. 

No. 4-THE LOCKSMITH OF LYONS, by Prof. Wm. 
Henry Peck. 

No. 3-THE BROWN PRINCESS, by Mrs. M. Y. Yictor. 

No. 2-THE SILYER SHIP, by Lewis Leon. 

No. 1-AN IRISH MONTE CRISTO. 


For sale by all Booksellers and News Agents, or will be sent, postage 
FREE, to any address in the United States or Canada, on receipt of price, 
25 cents, by the publishers, 

STREET & SMITH, 

P. O. BOX 2734, 25-311 ROSE STREET, NEW YORK. 


THE 

MERRY-MAKER 

ALMANAC. 


MAILED FREE TO ANT ADDRESS. 


Very Comic-FuHbf Pictures. 


Will Drive the Blues out of a Bag 
of Indigo. 


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name on a postal card and mail the same 
to us, and receive this Almanac FREE. 
Address, 

STK51ET & SMITH, Publishers, 

31 Rose Street, New York. 


DENMAN THOMPSON’S OLD HOMESTEAD. 


STREET & SMITH’S SELECT SERIES No. 23. 


JE*rice, 25 Cents, 


Some Opinions of the Press. 

As the probabilities are remote of the play * The Old Homestead ’ being 
seen anywhere but in large cities It is only fair that the story of the piece should 
be printed. Like most stories written from plays It contains a great deal which 
Is not said or done on the boards, yet it is no more verbose than sucii a story 
should be, and it gives some good pictures of the scenes and people who for a 
year or more have been delighting thousands nightly. Uncle Josh, Aunt Tildy, 
Old Cy Prime, Reuben, the mythical Bill Jones, the sheriff and all the other char- 
acters are here, beside some new ones. It is to be honed tiiat the book will make 
a large sale, not only on its merits, but that other play owners may feel encour- 
aged to let their works be read by the many thousands who cannot hope to see 
them on the stage.”— A. r. Hei'ald, June 2d. 

“ Denman Thompson’s ‘The Old Homestead’ is a story 'of clouds and sunshine 
alternating over a venerated home; of a grand old man, honest and blunt, who 
loves his honor as he loves his life, yet suffers the agony of the condemned in 
learning of the deplorable conduct of a wayward son; a story of country life, love 
and jealousy, without an impure thought, and with the healthy flavor of the 
fields in every chapter. It is founded on Denman Thompson s drama of ‘The 
Old Homestead.’ A. Y. Press, May 26th. 

“ Messrs. Street & Smith, publishers of the New York Weekly, have brought 
out in book-form the story of ‘ The Old Homestead,’ the play which, as produced 
by Mr. Denman Thompson, has met with such wondrous success. It will proba- 
bly have a great sale, thus justifying the foresight of the publishers in giving the 
drama this permanent fiction form.”— iV. Y. Morning Journal, June 2d. 

“ The popularity of Denman Thompson’s play of ‘ The Old Homestead’ has 
encouraged Street & Smith, evidently with his permission, to publish a good-sized 
novel with the same title, set in the same scenes and including the same charac- 
ters and more too. The book is a fair match for the play in the simple good taste 
and real ability with which it is written. The publishers are Street & Smith, and 
they have gotten the volume up in cheap popular form.”— lY. Y. Graphic, May 29. 

“Denman Thompson’s play, ‘The Old Homestead,’ is familiar, at least by rep- 
utation, to every piay-goer in the country. Its truth to nature and its simple 
pathos have been admirably preserved in this story, which is founded upon it 
and follows its incidents closely. The requirements of the stag- make the action 
a little hurried at times, but the scenes described are brought before the mind’s 
eye with remarkable vividness, and the portrayal of life in the little New' Eng- 
land town is almost perfect. Those who have never seen the play can get an 
excellent idea of what it is like from the book. Both are free from sentimentality 
and sensation, and are remarkably healthy in tone.”— A Zban?/ Express. 

“Denman Thompson’s ‘Old Homestead' has been put into story-form and la Is- 
sued by Street & Smith. The story will somewhat explain to those who have not 
seen it the great popularity of the plSiyJ— Brooklyn Times, June 8th. 
r- «*Tne fame of Denman Thompson’s play, ‘Old Homestead,’ is world-wide. 
Tens of thousands have enjoyed it, and frequently recall the pure, lively pleasure 
they took in its representation. This is the story told in narrative form as well 
as it was told on the stage, and will be a treat to all, whether they have seen the 
play or noV^— National Tribune, Washington, D. C. 

“Here we have the shaded lanes, the dusty roads, the hilly pastures, the 
peaked roofs, the school-house, and the familiar faces of dear old Swanzey, and 
the story which, dramatized, has packed the largest theater in New York, and 
has been a success everywhere because of its true and sympathetic touches of 
nature. All the Incidents which have held audiences spell- bound are here re- 
corded— the accusation of robbery directed against the Innocent boy, his shame, 
and leaving home ; the dear old Aunt Tilda, who has been courted for thirty 
years by the mendacious Cy Prime, who has never had the courage to propose ; 
the fall of the country boy into the temptations of city life, and his recovery by 
the good old man who braves the metropolis to find him. The story embodies ali 
that the play tells, and all that it suggests as well,”— Aransas City JourncOs 
May 2Tth. 


THE COUNTY FAIR. 

By NEIL BURCESS. 

Written from the celebrated play now 
running its second continuous season in 
New York, and booked to run a third sea- 
son in the same theater. 

The scenes are among the New Hamp- 
shire hills, and picture the bright side of 
country life. The story is full of amusing 
events and happy incidents, something 
after the style of our “Old Homestead,” 
which is having such an enormous sale. 

^^THE COUNTY FAIK ” will be one 
of the great hits of the season, and should 
you fail to secure a copy you will miss a 
literary treat. It is a spirited romance of 
town and country, and a faithful repro- 
duction of the drama, with the same 
unique characters, the same graphic scenes, 
but with the nan-ative more artistically rounded, and completed than 
than was possible in the brief limits of a dramatic representation. 
This touching story effectively demonstrates that it is possible to pro- 
duce a novel which is at once wholesome and interesting in every part, 
without the introduction of an impure thought or suggestion. Head 
the following 

OPINIONS OF THE PRESS: 

Any person who can laugh as heartily as did the big audience at the 
“County Fair” last evening will always enjoy good digestion.— A. Y. Herald. 

Neil Burgess in the “County Fair” has never done anything better than 
the gentle-hearted New England spinster, and is worthy of commendation. 
—A. r. World. 

There are many amusing lines and situations in the “County Fair.”— 
N. Y. Tribune. 

In Neil Burgess’ “County Fair” reproduction there is a great deal of pic- 
torial truthfulness.— Y. Y. Sun. 

Words have been exhausted in praise of this admirable dramatic story 
of country life “down East.”— Y. Y. News. 

Neil Burgess as Miss Abigail Prue in the “County Fair” took a firm hold 
from the start.— Y. Y. Times. 

The “County Fair” audience is not taken away from the country, and 
from the first introduction to Rock Bottom farm to the race at the county 
fair the scenes are rural.— Y. Y. Joumial. 

“County Fair” touches the various chords of simple pathos and whole- 
mme humor.— Y. Y. Press. 

Neil Burgess as Abigail Prue has forgotten none of those quaint manner- 
sms which have gained him fame as an impersonator of rustic female char- 
gicters.— Y. Y. Telegram. 

From first to last he tickles the risibilities and appeals to the sympa- 
thies.— Y. r. Commercial Advertiser. 



The Coniity Fair is No. 33 of “ The Select Series,” for sale by all 
Newsdealers, or will be sent, on receipt of price, 25 cents, to any ad- 
dress, postpaid, by Street & Smith, Publishers, 25-31 Rose st., N. Y. 


Bertha M. Clay’s 

Copyright Novels, 

iisr 

The Select Series. 

Fxrioe, 25 Oexxts :E3£tolx. 


FULLY ILLUSTRATED. 


No. 22-A HEART’S BITTERNESS. 

No. 2 8-A HEART’S IDOL. 

No. 36-THE GIPSY’S DAUGHTER. 
No. 37-IN LOVE’S CRUCIBLE. 

These novels are among the best ever written 
by BERTH A M. CLAY, and are enjoying an 
enormous sale. They are copyrighted and can 
be had only in THE SELECT SERIES. 


For sale by all Booksellers and News Agents, or will be sent, post- 
paid, to any address in the United States or Canada, on receipt of 
price, 25 cents each, by 

STREET 4& SMITH, Publishers, 

81 ROSE STREET, New York. 


P. O. Box 2734. 


STREET & SMITH’S SELECT SERIES 

OF 

POPULAE AMEEIOAN COPTEIGHT STOEIES, 

BY POPULAB AUTHOES. 


In Handsome JPaper Covers, S5 Cents. 


USTo, !■ 

A STORY OF POWER AND PATHOS. 


IHE SENATOR’S BRIDE. 

By Mrs. ALEX. McVEIGH MILLER, 

Author of “Brunette and Blonde,” “Lady Gay’s Pride,” etc. 


This is a domestic story of deep interest, charminpfly writte^w^ 
with vigor and earnestness, and has not a dull scene in it. The 
author’s purpose is to portray nature ; she therefore avoids all 
extravagance, and relies entirely upon her ability to entertain 
her readers with the presentation of scenes and incidents that 
never surpass probability, yet are extremely captivating. 

The story of “The Senator’s Bride” is something more than 
a work of fiction. It contains a moral that is certain to be im- 
pressed upon all who follow the career of the wife who wrecked 
her happiness because she respected herself too much to deceive 
her husband. 


PRICE, TWENTY-FIVE CENTS. 

Issued in clean, large type, with handsome lithographed 
cover, and for sale by all Booksellers and Newsdealers ; or sent, 
pout age free, to any address, on receipt of price, by the pub- 
lishers, 

STI^EET &c 

P. O- Box 2734. 31 Rose St., New York. 


The Select Series. 


A SEMI-MONTHLY PUBLICATION 

DEVOTED TO GOOD READING IN AMERICAN FICTION. 


PRICE 25 CENTS EA CH. FULL Y ILLUSTRA TED. 


XLi^tOjSt 


No. 37-IN LOYE’S CRUCIBLE, by Bertha M. Clay. 

No. 36-THE GIPSY'S DAUGHTER, by Bertha M. Clay. 

No. 35— CECILE'S MARRIAGE, by Lucy RaiidaU Comfoii;, 

No. 3I-THE LITTLE WIDOW, by Julia Edwards. 

No. 33-THE COUNTY FAIR, by NeU Burgess. 

No. 32-LADY RYHOPE'S LOYER, by Emma Garrison Jones. 
No. 31— MARRIED FOR GOLD, by Mrs. E. Burke CoUins. 

No. 30- PRETTIEST OF ALL, by Julia Edwards. 

No. 29— THE HEIRESS OF EGREMONT, by Mrs. Harriet Lewis. 
No. 28— A HEART'S IDOL, by Bertha M. Clay. 

No. 2 7 -WINIFRED, by Mary Kyle Dallas. 

No. 26— FONTELROY, by Francis A. Durivage. 

No. 25-THE KING'S TALISMAN, by Sylvauus Cobb, Jr. 

No. 2J-THAT DOWDY, by Mrs. Georgie Sheldon. 

No. 23-DENMAN THOMPSON'S OLD HOMESTEAD. 

No. 22-A HEART'S BITTERNESS, by Bertha M. Clay. 

No. 21— THE LOST BRIDE, by Clara Augusta. 

No. 20-INGOMAR, by Nathan D. Urner. 

No. 19— A LATE REPENTANCE, by Mrs. Mary A. Deuison. 
No. 18— ROSAMOND, by Mrs. Alex. McYeigli MiUer. 

No. 17-THE HOUSE OF SECRETS, by Mrs. Harriet Lewis. 
No. 16-SIBYL'S INFLUENCE, by Mrs. Georgie Sheldon. 

No. 15-THE YIRGINIA HEIRESS, by May Agues Fleming. 

No. 14-FLORENCE FALKLAND, by Burke Brentford. 

No. 13— THE BRIDE ELECT, by Annie Ashmore. 

No. 12-THE PHANTOM WIFE, by Mrs. M. Y. Yictor. 

No. 11— BADLY MATCHED, by Helen Corwin Pierce. 

The above works are for sale by all Newsdealers, or will be sent to any 
address, postpaid, on receipt of price, 25 cents each, by the publishers, 

STREET & SMITH, 

81 Bose Street, Ifew ITork, 


V, 0. Box 8734. 



An Entrancing Emotional Story, 


By BERTHA M. CLAY. 


No. I of tilo Primroso Edition of Copyriglit Novols. 


Olotlx. X=»i^ice, $1. 


SOME OPINIONS OF THE PEESS. 

Messrs. Street & Smith, New York, hegiii anew series of novels— “The 
Primrose Library”— with “Another Man’s Wife,” by Bertha M. Clay. The 
story has enough plot to keep one from falling asleep over it, and it also in- 
dicates the stumbling-blocks and pitfalls which abound everywhere for 
young husbands and wives who think so much about having “a good time” 
that they have no time left in which to think about reputation and 
character. — N. Y. Herald, Sept. 10. 

Street & Smith publish the American copyright novel, “Another Man’s 
Wife,” by Bertha M. Clay. It deals with certain corrupting influences of 
fashionable society, and impressively warns of the dangers that spring 
from them. Its plot is strong and dramatic, and is elaborated with all of 
the qualities of style that have made the author so popular. It is the first 
issue of the new Primrose Series . — Boston Globe, Sept. 16. 

“Another Man’s Wife,” by Bertha M. Clay, Street & Smith’s Primrose 
Series, is a laudable effort toward the repression of the growing evil of 
matrimonial disloyalty. The book is handsomely bound, with a holiday 
look about it . — Brooklyn Eagle, Sept. 15. 

Street & Smith of New York publish in cloth cover “Another Man’s 
Wife,” by Bertha M. Clay. The story is effective. It iinpre»sively depicts 
the resuits certain to attend the sins of deception. It teaches a lesson that 
will not be lost upon those thoughtless men and women who, only intent 
upon pleasure, little dream of the pitfall before them, and to which they are 
blind until exposure wrecks happiness . — Troy {N. Y.) Press. 

Street & Smith, New York, have brought out in book-fonn “Another 
Man’s Wife.” This is one of Bertha M. Clay’s most efiective stones.— 
Cineinnati Enquirer. 

“Another Man’s Wife.” This is one of Bertha M. Clay’s most effective 
stories. It forcibly and impressibly portrays the evils certain to attend 
matrimonial deceit, clandestine interviews, and all the tricks and devices 
which imperil a wife’s honor. It has a novel and entrancingly interesting 
plot, and abounds in vivid and dramatic incidents. It is the ftrst issue of 
Street & Smith’s Primrose Edition of Copyright Novels, and will not appear 
elsewhere.— Freeman. 


The Nugget Library. 

ISSUED EVERY THURSDAY. PRICE, 5 GENTS EACH. 


No. 30— McGINTY’S DOUBLE, by Cornelius Shea. 

No. 29— SMART ALECK ’WAY DOWN EAST, by Frank. 

No. 28-McGINTY’S CHRISTENING, by Cornelius Shea. 

No. 27-McGINTY’S BOARDING-HOUSE, by Cornelius Shea. 

No. 26— HIS ROYAL NIBS, by John F. Cowan. 

No. 25— SMART ALECK IN BOSTON, by Frank. 

No. 24— BILLY MAYNE, THE SHARPER, by Walter Fenton. 

No. 23— McGINTY’S TWINS, by Cornelius Shea. 

No. 22-PHIL AND HIS TORPEDO BOAT, by Harry St. George. 

No. 21-McGINTY’S GAMBOLS, by Cornelius Shea. 

No. 20-THE MYSTERY AT RAHWAY, by Chester F. Baird. 

No. 19-STANLEY’S BOY COURIER, by The Old Showman. 

No. 18-DIAMOND DICK’S CLAIM, by W. B. Lawson. 

No. 17-DIAMOND DICK’S DEATH TRAIL, by W. B. Lawson. 

No. 16-D ASHING DIAMOND DICK, by W. B. Lawson. 

No. 15-SMART ALECK ON HIS TRAVELS, by Frank. 

No. 14-SMART ALECK’S SUCCESS, by Frank. 

No. 13-THE SEARCH FOR CAPTAIN KIDD, by Col Juan Lewis. 

No. 12-MECHINET, THE FRENCH DETECTIVE, by Francis A. Durivage. 

No. 11-BOSS OF LONG HORN CAMP ; or, A Fortune for a Ransom, by A. 0. 
Monson. 

No. 10— BASE-BALL BOB ; or. The King of the Third Base, by Edward T. 
Taggard (Paul Pryor). 

No. 9— YOUNG SANTEE, THE BOOTBLACK PRINCE ; or. The Boy Wizard of 
the Bowery, by Raymond Clyde. 

No. 8— NED HAMILTON ; or. The Boys of Bassington School, byFletcher Cowan. 
No. 7— THE CRI3IS0N TRAIL ; or. On Custer’s Last War-Path, by Buffalo Bill. 
No. 6— THE FLOATING ACADEMY ; or. The Terrible Secrets of Doctor Switchem’s 
School-Ship, by Dash Dale. 

No. 6-NIMBLE NIP, THE CALL-BOY OP THE OLYMPIC THEATER, by John 
A. Mack. 

No. 4-THE GAYEST BOY IN NEW YORK; or, Adventures by GasUght, by 

Dash Kingston. 

No. 3— BOUNCER BROWN ; or, He Was Bound to Find His Father, by Com- 
modore Ah-Look. 

No. 2— UNDER THE GULF ; or, The Strange Voyage of the Torpedo Boat, by 

Hwrry St. George. 

No. 1— SMART ALECK ; or, A Crank’s Legacy, by Frank. 


For sale by all Newsdealers, or will be sent to any address, post- 
paid, on receipt of price, 3 cents cach, by the publishers, 

STREET & SMITH, 

P. 0. Box 2734. 25-31 Rose Street, New York. 


The Secret Service Series, 

( S. as. as .) 

Comprises the Best Detective Stones by the Best A uthors. 

Issued Monthly. PRICE, 25 CENTS EACH. Fully Illustrated. 

This series is enjoying a larger sale than any similar series ever 
published. None but American Authors are represented on our list, and 
the Books are all Copyrighted^ and can be had only in the SECRET 
SERVICE SERIES. JBouiid in Handsome Lithograph Covers. 

LATEST ISSUES: 

No. 29-THE POKER KING, by Marline Manly. 

No. 28-BOB YOUNGER’S FATE, by Edwin S. Beane. 

No. 27-THE REVENUE DETECTIVE, by Police Captain 
James. 

No. 26-UNBER HIS THUMB, by Donald J. McKenzie. 

No. 25-THE NAVAL DETECTIVE’S CHASE, by Ned BuntHne. 
No. 24-THE PRAIRIE DETECTIVE, by Leander P. 
Richardson. 

No. 23-A MYSTERIOUS CASE, by K. F. HiU. 

No. 22-THE SOCIETY DETECTIVE, by Oscar Maitland. 

No. 21-THE AMERICAN MARQUIS, by Nick Carter. 

No. 20-THE MYSTERY OF A MADSTONE, by K. F. Hill. 

No. 19-THE SWORDSMAN OF WARSAW, by Tony Pastor. 
No. 18-A WALL STREET HAUL, by Nick Carter. 

No. 17 -THE OLD DETECTIVE’S PUPIL, by Nick Carter. 
No. 16-THE MOUNTAINEER DETECTIVE, by Clayton W. 
Cobb. 

No. 15-TOM AND JERRY, by Tony Pastor. 

No. 14-THE DETECTIVE’S CLEW, by ^^Old Hutch.’’ 

No. 13-DARKE DARRELL, by Frank H. Stauffer. 

No. 12— THE DOG DETECTIVE, by Lieutenant Murray. 

No. 11— THE MALTESE CROSS, by Eugene T. Sawyer. 

No. 10-THE POST-OFFICE DETECTIVE, by Geo. W. Goode. 
No. 9— OLD MORTALITY, by Young Baxter. 

No. 8-LITTLE LIGHTNING, by Police Captain James. 

No. 7-THE CHOSEN MAN, by Judson R. Taylor. 

No. 6-OLD STONEWALL, by Judson R. Taylor. 

No. 6-THE MASKED DETECTIVE, by Judson R. Taylor. 

No. 4- THE TWIN DETECTIVES, by K. F. Hill. 

No. 3-VAN, THE GOVERNMENT DETECTIVE, by ^^Old 
Sleuth.” 

No. 2-BRUCE ANGELO, by ‘^Old Sleuth.” 

No. 1-BRANT ADAMS, by ^^Old Sleuth.” 


For sale by all Newsdealers, or will be sent by mail, post-paid, on receipt of price, 
25 cents each, by the Publishers, STREET & SMITH, 25-31 Rose Street, New York. 


The Log Cabin Library. 


Issued Every Thursday. Price, 10 Cents Each. 


No. 63— COONSKIN, THE SCOUT, by Duke Cuyler. 

No. 52— RAZZLE-DAZZLE DICK, by Donald J. McKenzie. 

No. 51-JENNlE, THE TELEGRAPH OPERATOR, by R. M. Taylor. 

No. 50-FRANK AND JESSE JAMES IN MEXICO, by W. B. Lawson. 

No. 49-THE YOUNGER BROTHER’S VOW, by Jack Sharp. 

No. 48-THE OCEAN DETECTIVE, by Richard J. Storms. 

No. 47-THE BLACK RIDERS OP SANTOS, by Eugene T. Sawyer. 

No. 46— GOTHAM BY GASLIGHT, by Dan McGinty. 

No. 45-MOUNTAIN TOM, by Ned Buntline. 

No. 44-PIGTAIL DEMONS, by Harry Temple. 

No. 43— RED RUBE BURROWS, by Edwin S. Deane. 

No. 42-THE HATFIELD-McCOY VENDETTA, by W. B. Lawson 
No. 41-THE STONY POINT TRAGEDY, by A. L. Fogg. 

No. 40— THE GREAT RIVER MYSTERY, by Bartley CampbelL 
No. 39-BARNACLE BACKSTAY, by Ned Buntline. 

No. 38-ALF, THE CHICAGO SPORT, by Edward Minturn. 

No. 37— CY, THE RANGER, by Joseph E. Badger, Jr. 

No. 36-HIS HIGHEST STAKE, by Edwin S. Deane. 

No. 35— BOB SINGLETONj by David Lowry. 

No. 34-KENTUCKY KATE, by Marline Manly. 

No. 33— THE ROAD AGENTS, by Leander P. Richardson. 

No. 32-RAMON ARANDA, THE CALIFORNIA DETECTIVE, by Eugene T. 
Sawyer. 

No. 31-THE HUMAN VAMPIRE, by K. F. Hill. 

No. 30-SHADOWED AND TRAPPED ; or, Harry the Sport, by Ned Buntline. 
No. 29-THE LIGHTS O’ GOTHAM, by Ralph Royal. 

No. 28- THE GREAT YACHT RACE, by Marline Manly. 

No. 27 -JACK, THE PEEPER, by Harry Temple. 

No. 26-HUGO, THE FIGHTER, by William H. Bushnell. 

No. 25-DARROW, THE FLOATING DETECTIVE, by Ned Buntline. 

No. 24-THE SHANGHAIER OF GREENWICH STREET, by Henry Deering. 

No. 23-PHENOMENAL PAUL, THE WIZARD PITCHER OF THE LEAGUE, by 
John Warden. 

No. 22-OLD MAN HOWE, by Wm. O. Stoddard. 

No. 21— CATTLE KATE, by Lieutenant Carlton. 

No. 20-GUISEPPE, THE WEASEL, by Eimene T. Sawyer. 

No. 19-LOUISVILLE LUKE, THE JOCKEY WONDER, by Jack Howard. 

No. 18-THE OYSTER PIRATES, by Eugene T. Sawyer. 

No. 17-SILVER MASK, by Delta Calaveras. 

No. 16-THE JOHNSTOWN HERO, by Marline Manly. 

No. 15-THE GREAT CRONIN MYSTERY, by Mark Merrick, Esq. 

No. 14-DIAMOND DICK IN ARIZONA, by Delta Calaveras. 

No. 13-HA RRY LOVELL, THE GENTLEMAN RIDER, by Sherwood Stanley. 
No. 12-THE MINER DETECTIVE, by Ned Buntline. 

No. 11-THE OKLAHOMA DETECTIVE, by Old Broadbrim. 

No. 10-THE GOLD-HUNTER DETECTIVE, by Marline Manly. 

No. 9— THE IRISH JUDAS; or. The Great Conspiracy Against Parnell, by 
Clarence Cl an cool. 

No. 8— BILL TREDEGAR, A Tale of the Moonshiners, by Ned Buntline. 

No. 7— THE PINERY DEN DETECTIVE, by Mark Merrick, Esq. 

No. 6— CAPTAIN KATE, by Leander P. Richardson. 

No. 6-THE WHITE CAP DETECTIVE, by Marline Manly. 

No. 4— JESSE, THE OUTLAW, A Stoi*y of the James Boys, by Captain Jake 
Shackleford. 

No. 3-SEVEN PICKED MEN. by Judson R. Taylor. 

No. 2-THE KEWANEE BANK ROBBERY, by J. R, Musick. 

No. 1-THE WHITE CAPS, by Marline Manly. 


For sale by all Newsdealers, or will be sent to any address, post- 
paid, on receipt of price, 10 cents each, by 

Street & Smith, Publishers, 

P. O. BOX 2734. 25-31 ROSE STREET, NEW YORK. 



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